Fate's Games
by Deliverer
Summary: Fate can be kind, fate can be cruel, fate seemed to rule the whole of Skyrim. There is no one safe from it, no one protected from the embrace. What was good and what was evil in these times?-A series of oneshots about different characters throughout all of Skyrim that are encountered in the game, mostly romance.
1. It Doesn't Matter You're Safe Now

**Fate's Games**

It doesn't matter. You're safe now.

"It doesn't matter. You're safe now," she breathed softly to him, hand gently coming to his cheek, caressing it and coaxing him out of the daze he was in. He didn't understand. What had happened? All he knew… All he knew was that his life had been in peril, and if not for her he would be dead now. He dreaded to know what would have happened to him as he gazed blankly around at the bodies surrounding them.

"Thank you," he heard himself saying. Had he been talking before that? He couldn't remember. "I owe you my life. I can never repay you for what you've done, but here, take this. It's a small payment, but it's all I can do." He handed her more than one-thousand pieces of gold and left without a word more. He had to get out of here. He just wanted to leave. And as he went he felt her eyes on him.

ES

He never thought he would see her again. After all, what reason did she have to return here? Why did he care? Why did he stand gazing listlessly at the statue of Arkay? Had he done much else since they had parted ways? He wasn't aware at which point he crawled into his bed to try and sleep; to block out everything and just sleep, but he was aware of at which time a voice pierced through his dreams, whispering like bells. "Verulus… Verulus, open your eyes."

He moaned softly and his eyes flickered open only to fall on _her_! His lips slowly parted in awe. He was still half asleep. He was dreaming, seeing things, and oh he never wanted to wake up again if this vision could only stay gazing down upon him as he lay in his bed. He would die here content if this picture never again faded away. "Why do you torment me?" he asked softly.

"You are angry with me," the nighttime apparition said to him as she knelt, in a tone that bordered on surprised sadness. Oh to erase the sound of her sadness from his memory, from her lips.

"Anger? No, beloved one, never anger," he replied, hand gently going to her cheek and stroking it adoringly. It was a dream, after all. A dream could not harm you; a dream could not reject you. When had he started to view her like this, he wondered? Perhaps from the moment he had first seen her coming towards the Hall of the Dead, head held high and proud…

ES

She carried herself like nobility, fully confident in her beauty. She carried it as a weapon, no fear of anything or anyone; and every male eye was upon her. Such beauty… Dibella herself would be ashamed to bask in her presence. But such beauty so often hid an ugliness inside, a cruelty. He had been taught such from a young age. Yet he could find no fault in her. His own eyes were blinding him, oh the irony. She had come up to him and he had wondered very much, who could she possibly be coming to mourn here?

He had forbid her entry, as was his order. She had questioned and he had told her about the cannibalism, the disgrace done to the bodies inside. She had been intrigued, had offered help. He had doubted her but who was he to refuse? In moments she had returned, a look in her eyes that appeared slightly disturbed and yet intrigued. She declared the problem was done with and accordingly he had thanked her. It wasn't supposed to be more than a thank you, but it was. He found himself giving her his amulet. The amulet had never left his throat since the day he'd been given it, and yet here he handed it to this stranger. She had taken it and left without a word, a quiet and approving smile directed at him…

ES

"What have I done to displease you?" she questioned softly, an amused look in her eyes as he stroked her hair so gently.

"Nothing! Oh goddess, never could you displease me," he insisted.

"Then how have I tormented you, young priest?" she questioned.

"Don't you know, lady? Since the moment we parted your image alone has consumed my mind," he replied. "And harder still, I will never see you again."

She looked confused, but her eyes soon lit in realization. A gentle grin graced her features and he could swear his heartbeat echoed throughout the Hall. Smiling she said, "What would you do to have me back?"

"Lady, if I thought there was anything at all I could do to get you back… Maiden, I would do it in a heartbeat," he answered…

ES

He'd thought his dealings with her were over after she had saved the burial hall, but hardly two nights later she was back. She had come to his room and awakened him from his sleep. She had told him she was in need of a priest on her travels. He had deduced, correctly might he add, that she wanted him in a tomb. Who better to follow than a priest of Arkay? He had initially refused, he had had his own business here. She had persuaded using all her feminine wiles, and like a fool he refused.

There had been the look again. She was hesitating to do something. Intimidate… She hesitated to intimidate. Instead she offered him gold, over three-hundred pieces, almost four-hundred, and he knew it was something important to her. He'd agreed. He followed her. Like a dog he followed her over fields and through marshes until they reached a secret door. She had led him through. How was he to know the peril he had been in? In this place there was a banquet hall, and many were gathered around the table. What was this? Still she led on, and blindly he followed, devoted to her. She had him under a spell and he'd never known.

She stood aside then, and let some woman come to him, speak to him, and he began to feel dizzy, light-headed, weak. Slowly his judgement was slipping away from him and for a moment terror seized his heart before just as quickly leaving. "You need a rest. Go, lie down," the strange woman, Eola, had ordered him.

"Yes… Yes. Excuse me, I need to lie down," he had repeated. Still she held him with her eyes, hypnotized. But there was something there. Fear… Fear was in her eyes yet he couldn't see the danger he was in. The black table drew nearer to him. _She_ was suddenly there, close at his side, almost trying to step in front of him before thinking the better of it and not. The spike above the table gave no warning. The name Namira meant nothing. He was dazed, under a curse. He lay upon the slab, the cold stone chilling him. So weak… he felt so, so weak. With a sigh his eyes had closed.

He heard their words but could not comprehend. "The meal is on Namira's table. Go ahead, Carve," the woman, Eola, was saying to the maiden whom had held him in the palm of her hand from the start. Devour, dine, those words he caught. Then all at once there were cries of anguish, death shrieks from all around. Still he couldn't move. And then it all went quiet…

ES

"Young man, why so devoted…?" the dream murmured to him, and he felt her stroking his face softly while he lay now in his bed, back to the present time.

"Dragonborn, I wish I knew," he answered. She gazed into his eyes gently. "My life is yours," he breathed softly. "You hold my fate in the palm of your hand. You hold my heart bound to yours, and my savior I believe I am in love with you."

"You have only hardly met me. Young man, it is a sense of owing, of dependence, of gratitude, no more," she said softly.

"Oh divines, were it only so," he moaned. "Stay, dream vision, stay. Don't leave me. Oh immortals, never let me wake up. May I die here with your image at my side. Oh divines, maiden, why couldn't you have killed me as I lay upon that black table? Slaughtered me as I lay helplessly, your eyes gazing into my soul even when I was blind to all else. I would have died happily."

Then to his shock she sobbed. She actually sobbed; and she leaned her forehead against his, nuzzling him. She took his lips lovingly and breathed, "Never. Oh gods, never speak to me of such a fate befalling you again!"…

ES

There had been silence, so quiet in that dark place as he lay there weak. Then footsteps and he felt her hand tenderly cupping his cheek. His eyes had weakly flickered open and fallen on her. She was wiping blood from her cheek looking tired and stressed. "Wh-what happened?" he asked, gazing up at her.

"Shh…" she soothed. "Shh…" She pulled him to his feet, drawing him up, and she held his hands gazing up at him. Tears shone in her eyes and he was afraid. What had happened to her, to him, here?

"What's going on?" he asked shakily, quickly brushing away a silvery tear from her cheek.

"It doesn't matter. You're safe now," she had replied. You're safe now…

ES

"Why do you weep for the fate that should have been mine?" he asked concernedly.

"If only you could know. Oh gods, when she told me… It _killed_ me to go to you, to ask you to follow. I never knew… I never knew if there would be an escape for you… To see you lying upon that table beneath the spiked chain… words cannot express my terror. If I had let things go too far already… With one strike from any of them, you would be dead; if that chain descended… oh divines," she groaned.

"Shh…" he soothed. "Shh…" he repeated, as she once had. "It's all right," he promised. "Oh sweetest dream, stay forever," he murmured to her, gently cupping her face.

"I am no dream," she whispered to him. His smile fled and he looked a moment pale, frightened. His mouth opened in shock as if he were trying to say something. She laughed through tears and kissed his forehead.

"You're here," he finally managed to whisper tightly, rising to a sitting position and cupping her face almost desperately. All at once, before he could stop himself, he had taken her lips and kissed her longingly. He drew her close holding her near. Her head rested on his chest and he knew she could feel the pounding of his heart.

"And if you so wish it, I will remain," she remarked suddenly, pulling away and drawing a necklace from beneath the collar of the gown she wore in place of armor. An amulet of Mara! His eyes widened. Shakily he reached out and took it in his palm. Looking up at her he suddenly seized her, drawing her close and kissing her.

* * *

(A/N: Quest Referenced: A Taste Of Death [Namira's Quest].

Yes, if you save his life and kill off the cannibals he gives you over one-thousand gold. No, you cannot marry him, at least not as far as I know. I could be wrong.)


	2. Where Is Your Pride Now?

**Fate's Games**

Where Is Your Pride Now?

"Your ancestors wouldn't _want_ this Silus."

"Why should I hide from it? This is my families _legacy_!"

"It's the past! Dead oaths on dead lips. Let it stay there."

"The museum is opening, Madena."

ES

Curse you, you stupid man. Curse you to Oblivion and back a million times over! How could you do this to me? Oh how could you do this to me? Tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks silently as she gazed down at the still form lying on the ground. I told you to leave it be; let sleeping dogs lie. No… no, you were too proud for that. You were always so proud. Where is your pride now Mystic Dawn? Where is your pride now? She sobbed and closed her eyes tightly, willing the image away.

ES

"Dragonborn!" she had cried out, chasing after the two men. Silus had heard. She knew he had heard. He never turned though; he never looked back. But the Dragonborn had paused and turned to face her. She raced towards him. "He is a good man!" she had exclaimed in terror. "Please, please, understand that! He is a good man!"

"Egotistic, megalomaniac, my lady, you have a strange view of good men," the Dragonborn had replied. She saw the hesitation in his eyes, however. Silus was watching now, arms folded coldly, waiting. The wind blew his robes around him and she felt her tears begin. She would never see him again… Oh gods, everything screamed those words to her. She would never see him again… His gaze had softened slightly. She never noticed the Dragonborn had reached him until he stood alongside Silus. "Please…" she breathed, shaking her head in denial, praying that Silus would stop, would come back. There was the howl of a wolf up ahead, though, and the two men turned. Quickly they raced onward to take on the pack, and out of sight.

ES

My tears have not stopped, beloved one, not once since the start. Darling… you didn't know, did you? You did not know how much I loved you. How can one who loved only himself love another? Friends since childhood, we fought together, played together, studied with one another, taught each other spells and chants. The nights out in my father's field, laying together on the grass and speaking about our ancestries. I couldn't see it then. How couldn't I see it? Your pride and arrogance, your desperate longing to solve a long dead mystery no one else could answer for you. Did you think of me at all? When you knew you were to die, did you spare even a moment's thought to me?

We could see the flashes of lightning from below. Lightning and flames and ice and your beloved conjurations, oh divines, please; please, spare him. Let him come home. Oh gods, if there is any mercy in you, let him come back to me! Please, please, please! I would have sold my soul to each of you a thousand times over if it meant he made it back. I stood on a balcony hoping against hope that you would come down once more, return unharmed. The skies lit up with the fight. I could hear the shouts of the Dragonborn. Oh my dearest friend, my secret passion, beloved one, did you think of me even a moment before your spells and incantations ceased to reflect against the dark night sky; as the Dragonborn finally ended your life?

ES

"Wait, wait, don't kill me! There's another way. I can take the pieces back to my museum, seal them in a display case! You get a generous amount of gold, I get to complete my collection, and nobody has to die," he pled desperately. She was right. Madena had been right, and he had been a fool. She had always been right, always, since they were young. He'd never learned to listen to her, his pride was too great.

"Dagon has spoken," the Dragonborn replied. Silus swallowed quietly. Now… now he was paying for it. Now he would give anything to go back in time and hear her plea. Now he would give up everything to be with her at this moment… He would give everything to be with her… be with her… her, her, oh divines, Madena… No! No, he would not accept this fate without a battle!

"Fine; but I'm not dying without a fight!" he declared. Before the Dragonborn could draw his blade, Silus conjured a familiar, a wolf. Immediately he followed up with chain lightning and on and on, not giving his attacker a rest. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough and he knew it wasn't. The Dragonborn seemed to absorb the spells. The Dragonborn kept coming at him, blade drawn. There was reluctance in his eyes, but it wasn't enough. If it had been enough, he would not be about to die.

He wasn't aware of it, not until he felt the first blow. Then he was bleeding from the mouth, then he could feel his lips moving, mouthing her name over and over and over as each time he said it he tasted the warm salty liquid. He was going to die. Oh divines, he was going to die! Gods I beg you now, be with her, protect her, help her. I am not worth her tears, and he had seen her tears as she spoke to the Dragonborn. Now he knew why. She had tried to plead for him, she had begged the hero to spare him. Oh gods, I am not worth her tears… The only image he saw was her, her, her, always her! He felt like screaming curses at every immortal that existed. Madena, Madena, Madena…

He was on his hands and knees now, at the Dragonborn's mercy. The hero held his blades poised, ready to behead him. "Please," he finally managed to gasp out. He knew he would die now. "Leave my body intact," he begged, thinking only of her, only of her, not himself. He would have laughed if his position hadn't been so dire. How hadn't he seen? How hadn't he seen? "Don't do this to her," he whispered.

The Dragonborn couldn't have possibly heard anything he had just said, but the man had read his lips, he must have, because the blades came away from his throat. There would be no second chances, however. The next thing he knew, the hero's blade was buried to its hilt in his stomach. He gave a strangled cry as the Dragonborn twisted the blade, but that was all. Life fled from his eyes. I love her… I love her… He died with the words burned into his mind, and the Dragonborn watched silently as his body slid down the hill.

ES

She gazed upon his body silently. She heard the battle above stop. Whatever had been attacking the Dragonborn after Silus, had been dealt with now, and soon he would be down. Where is your pride now, Silus? Here you lay drenched in blood. The Dragonborn would come down. He would strip her Mystic Dawn of everything, clothing, weapons, everything, and leave Silus' corpse carrion for birds and beasts. No dignity would be left for the man. Where is your pride now, Mystic Dawn?

She felt eyes on her and looked up. The Dragonborn stood there watching quietly, icily, angrily. He could kill her in one blow. If she attacked, he _would_ kill her. No… No… some goddess was whispering to her words she could not hear. Do no harm to yourself, lady, she sensed the deity had told her, and she knew… He had prayed for her. Her lover had prayed for her… The Dragonborn neared and just as she guessed stripped Silus of all he had leaving him near naked in the snow; and he walked off without a word.

It was then that she collapsed to her knees, seizing her hair and screaming in unbridled misery, rocking on her knees. She was shrieking his name, shrieking curses at every immortal she knew of, and she fell over his body and wept helplessly. No second chances, no second chances. Oh gods, come back to me, lover, come back to me! Goddesses, pity me, Daedra, I give my soul to any and all of you if you will just bring him back. Silus, Silus, Silus, Silus…

**ES Alternate Ending**

There was darkness, a brief flash; but that darkness encompassed all of Skyrim, every inch, and all at once they stood in front of the museum gazing into each other's eyes in shock, the Dragonborn waiting to be led to the shrine. "Madena…" Silus breathed softly. She sobbed then screamed, throwing herself into his arms and kissing him passionately. Just as eagerly he returned. He didn't know what had happened, where they were. He didn't know if she had died as well, but he prayed she hadn't. Had they been brought back in time? How? Did it matter? All he did was hold her tightly back returning every kiss as if it would be their last. Gods protect them both, forgive them both. From above, the god of time, Akatosh, watched silently, smirking. Mara, goddess of love, beamed down upon the pair grinning. Well, if no one was gifted a second chance, what fun would the immortals have?

* * *

A/N: Quest Referenced-Mehrunes Razor. I considered leaving the alternate ending out but decided not to, if only to see readers' comments, if there are any.


	3. To Talos! To Kynareth!

**Fate's Games**

To Talos! To Kynareth!

She had wanted to kill him, you know. She had wanted so badly to cut out his tongue and silence him once and for all. Divines only knew how badly. "Talos the Unerring!" he cried out in the plaza. She watched silently, unimpressed, but at the same time she had to give him credit. He was brave. To call on a deity whose worship was banned, to call out his name publicly for all to hear? A fool but brave, and as much as she hated to admit it, in a way she respected his determination. "Praise be to Talos!" he shouted out, and his blazing eyes fell on her, a silent challenge that she had run into once upon a time…

She had tried to silence him 'peacefully,' if you could call it that, the night their rivalry had begun. She had challenged him, marched directly up to him and began to chew him out about how Talos was only a man, albeit a great one, how a man was not a god. Those words had been taken from the priestess in Solitude, in fact. He had listened to her silent, eyes steely, teeth gritting quietly. A priestess of Kynareth versus a priest of Talos. Oh he had wanted to kill her that day for all she had said, for the way she had denounced his deity. He had looked up silently at the setting sun and the Gildergreen tree as her rant finally stopped and she went to catch her breath. His eyes narrowed at something. She turned. There were soldiers coming towards them, weapons drawn…

She remembered that night vividly. She had assumed they were coming to break them apart. She had gone to apologize, but they had shoved her aside and gone to him. They had seized him and began to attack him in front of her shocked eyes. The Companions had had to come break it up, had helped the man back to his home. Her respect for him grew when the next day he was back with the same spiel. She had listened again, bitter, cold, trying to glare him down. This time it wasn't anger, it was a challenge. He was calling her out. Challenging her to call upon Kynareth in his presence. Well, she wouldn't grace him with the satisfaction. She never had yet.

He spoke well, he spoke firmly, unwavering, preached as if he were born to do so, unafraid of arrest, unafraid of death. Then one day she had come, and he wasn't there… It was silent, no cry of 'We are but maggots!' Yes, she knew his speech by heart. She had wondered. She had explored. She had learned he had been taken by soldiers. She had gone white… She had gone white and she dropped the basket she was carrying and ran, ran as fast as she could towards the prison. She had found him. The guards were having their fun with him and he bore up under every attack though he was steadily weakening. They would beat him to death, she knew, and claim he had died in prison.

ES

"Enough!" He still heard that word in echo in his mind whenever he saw her sitting by the Gildergreen Tree watching, always watching, and listening. Enough… She had saved his life that night, and he was fully aware of it. He had never thanked her, he realized. Danica had destroyed the guards with words until they had handed him to her. He was in serious need of medical aid, bones broken, gouges so deep that stitches would hardly be enough. She had taken him into her care, tended to him. He'd never asked her why, but did it matter?

All at once he was aware he had stopped his 'sermon.' He had fallen silent. Upon realizing he once more began to speak on. "A man, nothing more," she suddenly said aloud. He froze and looked at her. She was taking his challenge. "He was only a man," she repeated.

And for once he lowered his hands and gazed at her silently. No retort, no defense. The sun was setting over the land, the tree had lit up in its glow, and he replied, "I know."

Her eyes widened in shock. Had he just… Impossible. "He was only a man, who found more favor in the eyes of the Aedra than anyone else could ever hope to, and upon his death was called up to them to rule at their sides. Demi-god, god, it does not matter."

Her mouth fell open in that moment, and he went back to his spiel. All at once she said, "Preacher…"

He looked warily at her. Preacher? When did she take to calling him preacher? "The Dragonborn has his dragons, but you alone could have saved Skyrim from Civil War without casualty."

ES

He took in her words, watched her quietly. "I am but a man," he answered.

"What that all men could be such a man," she softly remarked, drawing near to him, gently playing with his clothing, and for once Talos was the last thing on his mind as his lips parted gently.

She looked quietly up to him. What, she wondered, would it take to silence Heimskr for good? Nothing. Not death, not the removal of his tongue, nothing would silence the power of his voice. Forever it would remain in the minds of all who had heard it, whether they wanted it to or not. What would it take to silence him for good? She would soon see. All at once her lips gently pressed against his, sealing them, and his arms slipped around her, drawing her near. He pulled away first, and in hardly a whisper, a tone she had never heard from him before, he told her, "I will not live a long life."

Tears in her eyes, she answered, "I know…"

"I will be killed, possibly very soon," he stated.

"You will not be forgotten," she vowed.

He took her lips again then pulled away. "All men are forgotten in time," he stated.

"I pray to Kynareth… to Talos, that they will not leave you for nothing," she answered.

His eyes widened. She had just accepted Talos as a divine… Quickly that thought was forgotten, however, when he saw the tears in her eyes. Gently he brushed them away. "Let them leave me for nothing, as long as you do not," he whispered into her ear. Gently he kissed her again, and again, and again until both lay beneath the Gildergreen Tree. Temptation was great. Kisses? Yes, and there were many, each more longing than the last. Gentle caresses? Yes, as she cupped his cheek lovingly, as his hand was behind her head adoringly. They would come for him, she knew, but she would not let him go without a battle. For him she would die if she had to, for him she would live… And he for his part would fight with every ounce of his being to survive for her sake.


	4. Ill Met By Moonlight

**Fate's Games**

Ill Met By Moonlight

She went there expecting a monster, some vile creature or crazy man. What she saw was nothing of the sort. In the pit stood a man, just a man. Only a man. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a Nord most likely, nearly stripped say for the ragged trousers he wore… And she wanted to hate him. She wanted to hate him _so_ badly. So, so badly that words could not express it.

ES

"Our daughter. Our little girl. She hadn't seen her tenth winter." She regretted ever asking the man who it was that they mourned in the graveyard.

"How did she die?"

"She was… He ripped her apart. Like a sabre cat tears a deer. We barely found enough of her to bury."

"Who did this?" she had hissed through tears, feeling ill.

"Sinding. Came through as a laborer. Seemed like a decent man. He's stewing in the pit while we figure out what to do with him, if you've got the stomach to look at him. What could drive a man to do something like this?"

ES

"Come to gawk at the monster?" this Sinding questioned her in resignation.

"I hear you attacked a little girl," she answered.

"Believe me, it wasn't anything I ever intended to do. I just… lost control," he replied, voice cracking slightly, and she was surprised. When did a monster feel remorse? "I tried to tell them but, none of them believe me. It's all on account of this blasted ring."

"What ring?" she asked.

"This is the ring of Hircine. I was told it could let me control my transformations. Perhaps it used to, but I'll never know. Hircine didn't care for my taking it, and threw a curse on it," he answered almost catatonically. "I put it on and the changes just… came to me. I could never guess when. It would be at the worst times. Like… with the little girl."

The more she spoke to this man the more her image of him crumbled. Monster had become victim. Victim became slave, and she almost dreaded to ask as she gradually became lost in his eyes. "What kind of transformations?"

The words he spoke next, the tone he used, destroyed her defenses, and for a moment she felt only pity. He answered in hardly more than a whisper, "I don't suppose there's a point in keeping it secret if I'm going to die in here anyway." And then he proceeded to tell her. Werewolf. This man was a werewolf! And he went on. In tears he confessed to her in full everything, told her that he wanted to beg the Daedric Prince for forgiveness. Before she could think she had told him she would take the ring.

The young man's eyes filled with emotion she had never seen before in anyone, and it touched something inside of her deeply. "You would do this for me?" he asked her. She barely nodded, swallowing over a lump in her throat. Would she regret this choice? Perhaps; but there was something about the man. In his eyes she read only honesty. Honesty and desperation… and fatigue. He was tired, exhausted. The curse, slowly it was ripping him apart, torturing him. And then in a flash he was gone with a vow that the next time they met, she would be safe from him. He had climbed from the prison without a word more.

ES

She hardly heard the guard accuse her as she went out, as she killed the white deer, as Hircine appeared before her and tasked her to kill the man she had only just now vowed to help. What could she do? She went to the glade where to which Sinding had escaped and she tracked him down until suddenly… Suddenly from above came a voice. "Never thought I'd see you again."

She caught her breath and looked sharply up. Her eyes widened in awe as she gazed upon the werewolf outlined against the fiery red glow of the moon. Chills ran up and down her spine. It was him… It was him… And she admitted to him what she had been tasked, "I've been told to kill you."

She'd never expected his reply, not for a moment. "And I would deserve it, wouldn't I?" he asked. She didn't know why it happened; she wasn't sure she wanted to know why, but she felt tears falling silently from her eyes as she watched him there, so regal, so noble, so ready to die if need be. It hurt… It hurt her to see… "I can't stop you if that's what you want to do. Hircine is too powerful…" In that moment she longed to fall to her knees and beg Hircine to remove this task from her, to plead for this creature, this man's, life, or to have the werewolf kill her by his own hands and release her from this choice that she had never begun to believe could be so hard to make.

He swore to her then, beneath the blood red moon, that if she spared him he would be a powerful ally to her, that he would never again return to civilized life, that he knew now that a civilized life, a normal life, was no more in his grasp. It had been robbed from him long ago. It must have been the single bravest thing she had ever heard in her life. He was willing to isolate himself from any and all protection, live alone, taken from all he knew and loved; to become the monster he had tried so hard to fight off… He would give up everything to spare the lives of the innocent, and she sensed that, if need be, that would include his life. Tears silently fell from her eyes and she knew. She had fallen in love with him…

ES

He sensed her sadness and distress, he could smell it, hear it, _feel_ it. Don't… oh please, don't cry; do not pity me. Lady, I do not deserve such mercy. Please, do not weep for me. And then she spoke, chilling his blood with her nightingale voice. "I will spare you," she swore.

"Thank the gods," he breathed in relief. Before he had finished speaking the rest of his sentence, she was there next to him, hand gently placed on his fur, stroking it absently in fascination. He waited a moment. She looked up into his eyes and nodded softly, and when she ran he could do nothing but follow. To let her out of his sight for even a moment… The very thought frightened him. To see her dancing amongst the hunters like a born huntress drew him all the nearer; and when they were done, he dreaded to hear her goodbye.

"The last of the hunters is dead," she declared. What could he say? What could he say but to renew his vow to her? He would make his home here far from civilized life, as he swore. And if nothing else the image of her would drive him to stay here for eternity, because the thought of ever hurting her, ever betraying her mercy, pained him more than it had any right to. Let her voice and image play through his mind over and over and over until he went mad with misery or died of a broken heart, because he knew at that moment that he had fallen in love with the woman standing in front of him. He bowed his head and turned, walking away. He felt her eyes on him; then all at once she was there. "You will not be alone here," she vowed to him. "And if I cannot find a cure for you, I will join you."


	5. Unchild

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Warning! Controvertial subject matter, so let me promise you right now that nothing happens. I can't picture him doing anything no matter how he felt.)

Unchild

He hadn't had a clue. He hadn't had an idea about her intentions. He was oblivious, blind, foolish; but not anymore. Not anymore… So often she would slip onto his lap as the dark family dined together, laughing and exchanging stories. She was doing it to get under his skin, as far as he was concerned. At first she'd been getting a reaction from him; usually him ordering her off or complaining about annoying she devils. Sometimes he would actually physically remove her. Soon enough he'd discovered that she wanted a rise out of him. He'd retaliated accordingly and stopped, beginning to simply ignore it.

So often she would play with his beard or headdress. Playfully she would giggle and place a kiss on his cheek or forehead saying he was a great source of amusement for her; saying how she loved to make him squirm. Again, that would end in a barrage of complaints. The sweet little kisses she dropped so casually and leisurely upon his lips were nothing. Just a little un-child determined to drive him to the end of his rope; and succeeding.

"You know, for a three hundred year old woman you certainly like to act like a child," he bit coldly as she leapt up onto his back as he was cooking.

"Oh Nazir, what fun is it to be eternally in a child's form if you can't act like one once in a while?" she questioned innocently.

"Get off my back Babette!" he ordered. She laughed and kissed his neck then dropped off. Annoyed, he'd wiped the kiss off as she walked away giggling. He was glad she hadn't decided to bite.

ES

She loved to humiliate him, manipulate him, play her little mind games with him. "You know, I could really go for a boiled crème treat right now," she cooed to him while they sat in an inn after a contract he'd completed; and that she'd begged to go along with.

"You can forget it," he replied.

"Don't make this difficult, Nazir. I have quite the ear splitting shriek," she threatened.

Eyes narrowing he shot, "You wouldn't dare!"

"Help, help me! Pervert, kidnapper, monster, help!" she shrieked immediately.

He went white, nearly panicking. "Okay, okay, just stop screaming wench!" he pled as all eyes went to them and he prepared to fight his way out of the town. Oh if he was attacked and chased out she would pay dearly.

She fell silent, giggling. "Is that how you want me to scream if anyone tries to hurt me?" she innocently asked, loud enough for the inn to hear. Immediately everyone relaxed, assuming he was just telling her about the dangers of the land.

"Yes," he'd grumbled icily, rising to buy her the treat.

ES

He'd cursed himself so often for falling into her traps so easily. But he was fast realizing that there was one mind game she was playing that she hadn't been able to win. "Nazir…" she called to him as he was lying in bed, voice sounding quiet. Quiet? Since when?

He'd sat up with a groan and looked curiously at the door. "Oh no," he muttered on seeing her. "Babette, what now?" he demanded. "Do you want me to buy you a honey nut treat this time?" he sarcastically added.

"Not exactly," she replied, crossing the room and climbing onto his bed. She lay down next to him and said, "I can't sleep."

"Oh for the love of… get out," Nazir ordered.

"Nazir, don't you want the company?" she cooed to him as she gazed down into his eyes smirking. Lightly she toyed with his beard.

"Of a woman, yes, of a child, no," Nazir replied, annoyed.

"A child?" she asked vaguely, but there was a hint of coldness.

"Look in a mirror lately? Oh wait, you can't," Nazir said. Babette frowned at him and pulled a little harder than necessary, making him wince.

"A child," she repeated, and this time her eyes were narrowed dangerously.

He frowned at her and replied with a sneer, "Not even eleven. A little girl."

ES

It had been the moment the turning point came. It had been the moment that his eyes were opened to a truth that he had never fully understood. "I am no child!" she screamed furiously at him, eyes lighting viciously up as she bore her fangs.

For a moment he was terrified as he looked into this unchild's eyes. Her eyes. There was reflected in them no innocent gaze, no gentle look. The eyes were not a child's eyes. Finally he replied, "What?"

"I am not a child, Nazir. I am a woman. A _woman_!" she yelled.

She was breathing heavily, angrily, as they watched each other. He was lost, but not for long. All at once the weight and truth to those words hit him like a ton of bricks. "Babette…" he finally managed to say, but where could he go from there? There was no apology to be given, there had been no insult and he saw that fact stated plainly in her expression.

"I am a woman. I speak and act like a woman. I am not naïve, I am not helpless, I do _not_ see the world as a child sees it. I do not have the fears of a child. I feel like a woman. I have the _desires_ of a woman, _not_ a child."

Desires? Then the answer came to him, stealing away his breath. He grew pale. He knew. He knew _exactly_ what desires meant. "Babby… Babby, please, don't… Don't…" He had wanted to say more, to elaborate on just what she was not to do, but he couldn't.

ES

"Your skin is as dark as chestnut, your heart black as night, but that does not change the fact you are just a man," she hissed; and the way she spoke was not the way a child spoke. In fact, in that moment he almost forgot the face he gazed into was the face of a child. For a moment, hardly a breath, he saw the woman she would have become.

"Don't…" he pled again, increasingly more frightened. Pieces of a puzzle were falling into place one by one, and suddenly her childish teases, her meaningless little gestures, the sweet little kisses she gave so readily, had taken on a whole new meaning. No, he was no longer blind, his eyes were opened, and what frightened him more than anything was that his heart was racing a mile a minute. Why? Longing…

Thoughts were springing to mind that had never been there before. The glimpse of the woman she would have been was imprinted there. Desire. He wanted that image to stay forever; he didn't want it to be replaced by the child's, because the child's image was not the true image; the child's image he could do nothing with. And oh how he wanted it. He wanted the woman, not her child form. He wanted this woman's promises. He desired to hold her near, to feel her warm breath tickling his ear, to kiss her not as a brother, nor a father, but as something else. He wanted her to remain, to share his bed, the woman. He longed to return all she felt. But he wouldn't…

He wouldn't because the woman above him was a child; true only in form, but a child nonetheless; and he would not and _could_ not bring himself to do anything to her that would spoil her innocent form. "I'm sorry," he whispered quietly. There was silence, terrifying silence, and still she gazed down into his eyes, furious tears shining in her own. But she knew; he sensed she knew. He would be paying dearly now if she didn't; and finally she climbed off of the bed and marched out, head held high. He watched mournfully after her. It wasn't a little girl's eager and excited step; it was with the grace of a woman that she walked, and he shivered and shook, unable to stop. He knew then that no sleep would come to him.


	6. It Was Once Me

**Fate's Games**

It Was Once Me

"Look on the bright side. If Whiterun is invaded, there's a good chance Nazeem will be killed," Danica assured.

Assured. Ahlam almost laughed at the word, at the phrase her friend had just spoken. It was ironic, coming from a priestess. In fact she _did_ laugh, then muttered something that sounded like an agreement; but she didn't know; she wasn't particularly listening to herself anymore. The Dragonborn was listening. As Danica left, Ahlam asked him, "Looking for my husband, Nazeem? Check the Jarl's backside. That's usually where he stuffs himself."

It sounded strange from her mouth, especially after the lament she had just showered upon Danica. What had happened to him, to them? It hadn't always been this way, it hadn't. There was a time when she loved him with every fibre of her being. There had been a time when he couldn't even _focus_ when she appeared and swept by him, smiling timidly in his direction. He had once followed her like a puppy, never daring to let her out of his sight.

She missed that. She missed the young man who had been so devoted to her, whose love had surrounded her in such a protective embrace that she had never wanted to let him go. He had always been arrogant, always been vain, always been disdainful, but he had loved her. _Her_, a woman of a lesser class then even him. He had loved her so, so much. She remembered when he used to sneak up to the roof of her house and wait there for her. When she joined him he had greeted her with a desperate kiss. There was no fail; and it was desperate, longing, and she felt such love radiating from him that she could have melted.

What had happened to him? Power… Power and riches… And in time his love for both had surpassed the adoration he had for her. There was no love in his touch anymore, in his kisses. It was routine for him, his mind preoccupied elsewhere, his mind everywhere but on the woman he had once vowed he would always love; the woman he had once vowed he would give all the power and riches in the world up for; the woman he would die for. There is a good chance Nazeem will be killed. But she didn't want that… she didn't want that… She wanted him back.

ES

He scoffed at a lesser who had dared provoke him, who had dared step in his way. Peasants, worthless, the lot of them. Not worth the ground they walked upon. Fools, each one. He was chewing out a worker in a shop now; the way the meat looked didn't suit him. How dare it not suit him? It had no right not to suit him. One more mess like this, the worker would be gone. Then she entered. He hardly spared her a look, enough to realize she was there.

He went back to his work, but still he felt her eyes on him. Finally annoyed he looked up, slightly put out, and demanded, "Well, what do you want Ahlam?" She was silent a long moment. "Speak up woman, I don't have all day!" he snapped sharply. He paused, though, and stiffened. There were tears in her eyes. Tears? Since when did she cry? He didn't believe he'd ever seen such a sight before. Pathetic. "Oh no, what now? Answer my question!" he ordered.

"To look," she suddenly replied. He blinked blankly.

"To look?" he incredulously repeated. "To look at what?"

"To look at you," she answered.

He stared blankly at her, quill still in hand. After a long moment he put it down and rose, asking, "Ahlam, are you feeling ill?"

"You used to look," she remarked.

"What?" he asked.

"You used to look at me; just look. Nothing else. You watched me from your family's shack," she remarked, voice cracking slightly.

ES

He felt his eyes soften. Soften? They'd been _hardened_? Since when? For how long? Why hadn't he noticed? "Aren't you afraid?" she suddenly questioned.

"Afraid? Of what? Nothing can touch me," he replied arrogantly, pride injured.

"No? They will come, Nazeem, they will come. What will your money and riches do for you then?" she asked.

"Who?" he asked.

"Who else?" she questioned, and he caught on.

After a long moment he asked, "Why does it concern you?" When did she start to care again?

"Because I… I don't… Never mind," she replied. Without a word more she wiped away her tears and walked up the stairs, him watching after her in confusion.

ES

She wept silently, holding the pillow close. It used to be him. It used to be into his chest that she would weep and tell everything to. Now nothing. She heard footsteps. She knew who it was. He paused in the doorway and watched, just watched. Oh gods, how he had once watched. Now she sensed nothing, no longing gaze, no love; confusion, maybe, nothing else. Confusion. After a long moment he crossed the room and sat on the bed, leaning against the headboard as she wept. He made no move to comfort her, just sat and listened to her muffled sobs.

He looked out the window. The night was starry, the moon was full, bright, beautiful. Beauty… It's beauty paled in comparison. To who? His eyes widened as the answer came to him. Her. It paled compared to her… How had he forgotten? He looked over at Ahlam. "It used to be me you held, but it was so rare…" he suddenly remarked. He heard her sobs slow. "All I had to do was be near to you. Rarely did you hold me. You only wanted me near… But I wanted so much more… I wanted to… to hold you close and never let you go. I wanted to make it so the world would never hurt you again and all your sadness would… would end." His voice had cracked. Her lips slowly parted. She'd forgotten about that. Perhaps Nazeem wasn't the only one time had changed… "It was once me… I haven't forgotten."

"What happened?" she asked softly.

"If I knew…" he began. He looked gently over at her then lay next to her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Oh Ahlam, what that I could give you the _world_… Perhaps trying to do just that was what destroyed us." He buried his face in her hair, feeling a foreign stinging in his eyes. "If I knew, I would do all in my power to stop it. I would erase time if it meant you were happy."

"Since when?" she asked. She tried to sound angry, reproachful, it didn't work.

"I'm hurting you," he said, and in his tone was realization. Had he been so blind? Had he truly been so blind? She screamed in misery and burst into heart wrenching sobs. He could only listen to her and let his own tears fall. Tears, pathetic, but so was he… He cursed himself roughly then sat up, pulling her with him. Before she could ask he was bringing her out of the room, bringing her up higher, bringing her to the roof…The roof… Like so long ago.

ES

He sat her down and pulled her tightly into his body and suddenly began to sob, joining her in her mourning and rocking her back and forth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" he repeated. Over and over and over, and she could only listen in awed disbelief. "Oh divines, forgive me," he moaned. "Oh Ahlam, forgive me. Oh immortals, someday, somehow, I will make everything all right again, and this life, this man, this stranger, I have become to you, will be no more. If I must _die_ to ensure your freedom, your happiness, I will do so in a heartbeat; there will be no thinking it over," he vowed to her; and she knew and felt the love he had once had for her flowing into her body again, the desperation, the longing, the desire and devotion. Oh gods! He still loved her, and that realization almost made her believe that the world would never harm her again.

"I don't want them to kill you," she suddenly said.

"If I must die, I must die," he replied.

"No!" she denied, shaking her head.

"You will be free of this stranger, free to love again, free to be what you wanted to be so long ago," he said.

"I love _you_! I love you, and I will _not_ love again. If I must die at your side, so be it. I will not lose you," she sobbed, and all at once he had taken her lips, sealed them with a kiss so filled with love that nothing else mattered. He would make it all right again. Perhaps not now, but someday he would make everything right again.


	7. In My Time Of Need

**Fate's Games**

In My Time Of Need

He greets her, "We meet at last, my dear lady." The Dragonborn watches silently, no move to kill him for her sake, no move to do anything.

"What's going on here?" she demands of the bounty hunter.

"Come now, you didn't think you could go on manipulating people forever," he answers. Before she can scream he paralyzes her. She can hear his exchange with the Dragonborn. She curses the hero a million times over. If this Dragonborn killed Kematu now, there would still be no forgiveness. She would fight him until her dying breath.

He doesn't… He still doesn't… The Dragonborn leaves with no small amount of gold, spares her a guilty glance. Not guilty enough. They'll take her back to Hammerfell. She dreads to know what her fate there will be. As Kematu comes and gazes down upon her, a look of amusement in his eyes, she wishes she could spit at him, she wishes she could burst into tears and beg him on hands and knees to release her, that anything he was promised she would double. That she would do anything for him, anything… And there is no limit to that; even if it means… She does not dare think on such an outcome

ES

Traitor or not, it doesn't matter to him. He was tasked with a job, he would carry it through. He always had, he always would. There had been bribes given him before, gold beyond anything he could imagine, but he had his pride, his honor. In the long run it benefited him more each time he remained loyal.

They rode through Eleswyer, land of Khajiit; if only for an adventure. After all, there was no rush. She sat silently, hands bound tightly behind her as she gazed miserably up at the sky, over the land that could be her freedom. He'd always found it amusing, how the criminals he apprehended only showed their true feelings after being caught. Sadness, guilt, anger, triumph, he'd seen every reaction. All but this one she was displaying. Acceptance… Never had he seen acceptance before. It made him frown. What was the fun in that?

He let his men taunt her mercilessly, hoping to see a reaction, any reaction. Nothing. Catatonic. It was grinding on his nerves; it didn't sit well with him. No matter what happened, she never moved, never reacted. He had tried himself. Desperate to see any form of emotion he had tried to break her himself. Fear… Fear was what he wanted to see most. If only to see a hint of fear so his nerves would stop grating on him. He had tried to frighten her, stroked her hip or leg, whispered threats, whispered all the things that they could do to her, told her she was helpless, at their mercy, that she could do nothing it they decided to have a little 'fun' with her. They were all empty threats, but _she_ didn't know that. Yet there was no fear…

There was a flash of anger at first, for Saadia had spotted his starting threats as lies. She had laughed once, so scornfully it hurt _his_ pride, and he'd pulled back. But as they became more dangerous, as he adjusted his tone into the most sinister and lustful he could manage, there was a change. Not fear, never fear. There were tears; the first sign of tears he had seen from her. He had kissed her lips, then her neck, and there had been tears; and he had nearly given a victory cry except… Except she didn't move. She never reacted beyond the silent tears falling from her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. He'd backed off before he had realized he could have driven her further, possibly even to fear; but he'd backed off.

ES

Night after night she listened to his threats, his words, felt him stroke her. If she had been cut loose, he would have lost a hand multiple times over. It was at night that he delivered these threats. It had started in the daylight, but when she never gave him what he wanted, he stepped it up. Now night, the darkest parts of the night, stars shining above. Kisses now, and growls, and nips, yet he never acted on anything. It didn't stop her tears from coming. This battle he was claiming, but she would not give him what he wanted. He wanted her fear. He wouldn't see it. He would never see it. If he made good on his threats, he still would not see it. He would see fury, hatred, misery, and anguish, but she would not give him fear. She would die first. But she was getting a reaction from him.

Frustration, anger, annoyance, all these he displayed, all these she relished because he did not even _know_ he was showing her all she needed to see to remain unafraid. Oh she was getting a reaction from him… And neither of them saw until too late what was happening to _them_…

ES

His kisses… they became gentle, tender. No longer taunting, no longer bitter or frustrated, but gentle, softer. The light caresses became different somehow, no longer staged, no longer faked. And each time she shivered and drew in her breath. Each time their eyes met under the starry skies there would be silence, and his hand would not come away from caressing her face, brushing strands of her hair from her eyes.

They never noticed when she began to fall asleep in his embrace, to his touch and whispered threats that were no longer threats, not anywhere close. They never noticed the change, not even when he began to lie next to her and draw her near, both falling asleep beside each other. He never noticed when he cut her bonds, she never noticed she was freed so that with a single strike she could kill him.

They noticed when Hammerfell drew closer with each passing day, when they could see landmarks of their land in the distance. Oh how they noticed. She noticed when his embrace became meek, afraid, uncertain. He noticed when she began to tremble and silently weep into his chest, finally begging, finally giving him what he had longed to see for so long. He didn't care. The satisfaction was gone and only pain and guilt remained. And she noticed the warm tear touch her face; the tear that wasn't hers as she pretended to be sleeping in his arms. She noticed the loving nuzzle, the soft kiss he placed on the corner of her mouth.

They noticed when he took her hands and cut her bonds in front of the other warriors' shocked eyes. She noticed and trembled when, wordlessly, he took her lips and kissed her in front of all his men and whispered to her, "You're free. Go." She noticed when she burst into sobs and clung in terror to him. Her begging to be released had changed to begging him to take her, for they both knew that if he returned empty handed, whatever punishment that had been reserved for her would go to him. Death, imprisonment, torture, it would all fall onto him; and his refusal to do so pained her more so than anything she had ever felt before. She would never see him again. She knew that if she left, she would never see him again; but he placed an amulet into her hand, Mara… A proposal that would never be, and she gazed miserably up at him.

"Please…" she heard herself pleading.

"I promise you, I will find you again; I will find you, and when I do you will be mine, and I will never set you free again," he vowed to her. She kissed him passionately then pulled away slowly, took the horse he gave to her, and rode into the horizon. His eyes never left her fading figure again, nor the direction in which she'd finally disappeared.

* * *

A/N: Quest References-In My Time of Need


	8. Would Have

**Fate's Games**

Would Have…

She had come upon him in a wide field, wind blowing the tall grasses; a sea of gold… A sea of gold yet it paled in comparison to his eyes. What was he doing here? Why was he so far from any civilization? There were no roads, no towns, nothing. "Young man, why are you here?" she asked, quietly approaching him.

He turned to face her as if just coming out of some secret dream. He summed her silently up then declared, "If you are not here to grant me a good death, then you can leave."

"A good death?" she questioned, taken aback by the question, stomach dropping.

"Yes. Were I to simply lie down and die, it would not please Malacath," he declared.

"Why do you want to die?" she wondered immediately, eyes filling with such concern it made him inwardly shiver.

After a moment he answered, "My time has come. I am old. Too old to become chief. It would be wrong of me to take wives at this age. So I will die. Malacath has given me a vision of a glorious death. I am to wait here until it finds me. As you can see, it has not yet arrived."

ES

Slowly her lips parted. She looked into his eyes curiously, still glittering, still filled with life. Old? How could this orc think he was _old_? Was the thought of becoming chief really so great that power had overwhelmed everything else; and who had said he could not take a wife at this age? Tradition, perhaps?

"You don't look that old to me. Certainly you're still a strong, capable warrior?" she asked, still reluctant to believe all she was hearing.

"Indeed. One _should_ find his death while he can still call himself a proper man. We orc men are not like these Nords and Imperials, who carry on until they are grey and feeble and their hair falls out. To cling to something passed its usefulness is unseemly. How much more so when that thing is you?" he asked, slightly amused by the question.

Was being old such a horrible fate? Long had she believed that even those who died old had died too young. She had watched too many pass on of age, always too young. The belief surprised her yet angered her. Was it wrong to live a long life? She had met older orcs than this one in her travels. It wasn't fair! He was a young man still; and she… She for her part would wed him then and there, a complete stranger, if it meant saving his life; if it meant this mere boy, in the span of time, held onto life a little longer.

ES

He watched her silently. She was pretty, there was no use denying that. And angry, he could sense it, feel it. Angry and saddened. She would never truly understand. You know… he would have married her once upon a time. Yes… yes, he would have married her. As he watched this stranger play with the very amulet that symbolized love, he shook his head gently. He would have married her once upon a time. Once upon a time was a tale for children, though; once upon a time had ended for him now. Still, part of him wondered…Was there still a chance for him?

Quickly he denied the thought. Enough of such ideologies. They were the thoughts of a boy, a young man, an Imperial or Nord, not of a wisened old orc. Wisened… old… Was he, really either? There was still so much to learn, to see… No, no, enough of this.

"Are we done here?" he demanded of her, tone sounding harsher than he'd meant it to. He bit his tongue but kept silent. He would not apologize. He wouldn't… He couldn't. To show weakness to her… he would fall, his resolve would crumble. No, there would be no fear shown; yet somehow he knew, he sensed, that she felt his uncertainty and fear. He knew, felt, that she would have done anything to change his mind, but understood he would not back down. He wouldn't back down…

ES

"Perhaps I could give you the death you seek?" she finally asked.

The statement startled him. He knew she didn't want to. Every action about her screamed she didn't want to, that the thought was thrusting her into her own personal Oblivion. "Perhaps. Are you sure about this?" he finally questioned, and his tone sounded caring. He hated himself for it. No weakness, no reluctance, no thought of what could have been, no, no, no!

"Yes, I am sure. I will give you a good death," she finally replied, voice cracking. She'd hoped he would back down. She'd been certain he would back down. But if he wouldn't, neither would she."

"Hmm, we shall see," he answered. It would be a fight to the death. It _would_ have been a fight to the death, but if he defeated her… He knew he wouldn't be able to kill her if she fell to his mercy. "Never should have come here," he declared quietly, and they and only they knew the significance of those words, how true they were.

ES

He was at her mercy, gasping and panting. He gazed up at her quietly, waiting for the finishing blow. Would she go through with it? Half of him hoped she would, the other begged her not to. This side he fought. Tears were in her eyes as she looked down at him. Pity, compassion, love… Yes, he would have married this woman once upon a time. He would have married her in a heartbeat, broken tradition, broken every law he had learned, if it meant having her as his bride. Not now, though. Not now. To think on what could have been would destroy him. "Do it," he ordered.

She gazed down at him and sobbed, closing her eyes tightly. She would have married this stranger if it meant he lived to see another day. She would have married this orc. Are you satisfied, Malacath? Another young man claimed to your selfish whim, your desires, consumed by your lies; yours and so many other Daedric Princes. She struck. She heard a pained gasp, but the orc didn't cry out. She forced her eyes open and gazed down at the body. Gently she knelt next to his side and placed the Amulet of Mara in the dead man's hand. "I would have been yours," she whispered softly to him. Gently she kissed his lips then rose and walked away.

* * *

A/N: Quest Referenced-A Good Death


	9. Savior

**Fate's Games**

Savior

She had crawled as far as she could possibly go before the pain and blood loss overtook her. She collapsed and sobbed in agony. The entrance was only two more chambers away. She should have made it, _could_ have made it. Oh divines, what had possessed her to enter that Dwemer ruin alone? Now… now she would pay with her life. Divines, pity her, help her.

ES

He had heard the stories. A young woman, an adventurer, travelling through Skyrim. She had asked about a certain ruin, dwemer. Foolish young girl. Stupid to think she could make it even into the second chamber. Foolish like so many others. Foolish as he was for _following_ her. It was a body recovery, nothing more he told himself, but in the middle of the night he could have sworn a voice spoke to him, commanded him to go and find this woman. Who was he to disobey?

He found her in the third chamber, near death, beyond help. But to look upon her… He felt something that day that he had never felt before, only heard tales of. Tales, he believed, that belonged only to children. He heard the dwemer creations coming. They were after him, after her. But he wouldn't let them have her. Wordlessly he drew his weapon and attacked with strength he never knew he possessed until each one lay destroyed. He had picked the woman up and carried her from the ruin.

ES

She didn't know where she was. She felt warm. She felt safe. Could she be dead? She felt no pain no fear. Her eyes fluttered weakly open and fell upon a young man tending her wounds with such tenderness she could only assume the hands of some deity were upon her. "Who are you, immortal one?" she weakly questioned.

He looked at her, startled. He blinked then smiled softly. When was the last time she had seen such a gentle look? "Lady, I am no god," he stated. "And you are not dead. Not yet."

"But the ruin…" she began.

"Shh, shh," he soothed. "You're safe."

"How?" she asked.

He was silent a moment. Finally he answered, "A voice spoke to me in a dream and told me of a young adventurer who had wandered here. It commanded me to pursue her, to protect her. Why it chose me is a mystery. I am not a fighter, milady, nor a warrior. I came after you, as directed."

"What is your name?" she asked him curiously.

"Aerin," he answered, continuing to tend to her wounds. "And you?"

"Mjoll," she replied, unable to look away from her savior. Could words even describe how grateful she was?

As if sensing her uncertainty he smiled. "Say nothing, Mjoll. There is no need. I did what I felt was right," he assured.

"Thank you, Aerin," she replied, closing her eyes again. She wouldn't deny she was exhausted.

ES

She had never left him again, you know. Or had it been the other way around? He followed her, completely devoted to the adventurer. She allowed it, she invited it, and when that had changed… The Dragonborn had returned her Grimsever. The Dragonborn had invited her to go with him. The Dragonborn had sensed her fear and had confronted her about it.

She had her blade back, she no longer should feel as uncertain as a newborn. Why did she now? She knew… Oh how she knew. _He_ wasn't there. Her savior had begged her not to go. He had pled for her to remain with him in Riften. When she had refused, he'd let her go… He'd let her go without protest. He hadn't tried to stop her. He had set her free. Ever since they had parted, Grimsever did nothing to assure her, nothing to make her feel as safe as the mortal she had once mistaken for a deity… Grimsever had failed her when he had not, and she knew the source of her helplessness. She feared whenever _he_ was not near.

The Dragonborn let her go, let her return to Riften, and she had never run so fast in her life. She had never wept as much as she did when she threw herself into Aerin's arms, shivering for reasons she couldn't fathom. He had never held her as lovingly as in that moment when in front of the whole town square she had confessed her only weakness. She had never felt so much like a woman as when he placed the Amulet of Mara into her hand and asked loudly, so all could hear, if she would marry him. He promised to follow her across all of Tamriel, and she knew he would do just that until their dying day.

* * *

(A/N: Quest referenced, Grimsever's Return.)


	10. Waking Nightmare

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today.)

Waking Nightmare

"He's deceiving you," the voice said, echoing through her mind like a dream. She shivered feeling weak, feeling helpless, feeling hypnotized by the voice speaking to her. "When the ritual is complete, the skull will be free, and then Erandur will turn on you." Her eyes slowly opened, tears shining in them. She watched the man chant the spell. She watched the aura surround him. "Quickly. Kill him now. Kill him and claim the skull for your own. Vaermina commands you."

She slowly drew her sword hardly aware of what she was doing. The blade shone. He was unaware, blinded. He was in mourning, he was suffering, he was desperate and afraid and overwhelmed by unbearable guilt that would never leave his heart or mind. He was vulnerable and hers for the taking. One strike would end his life. One strike and he would never know what happened. His pain would end, and his suffering… But surely if he had wanted to die he would have done away with himself already… The daedra's voice echoed in her mind over and over and over…

ES

"What troubles you my daughter?" he questioned as she approached him. She had summed him silently up. A dark elf, she saw. A dark elf who was a priest of Mara? It was strange, she had to admit. He wasn't an old man, not in any way, but he was older than her by quite some years. She had asked about the town's plight and he had explained everything, had said something about dreams. He had shared his plan with her, for he was desperate; and she had followed without question, though there was doubt in the back of her mind. Erandur was hiding something, she knew. He was hiding something so big…

He'd spoken of danger as they neared the temple. She'd had no clue. Not until she was faced with ancient faces awakening from slumber. Perhaps not so ancient. How could she know? He wouldn't talk to her, he wouldn't tell her anything other than the necessity, and she didn't trust him; but at the same time she felt he was the only one she _could_ trust. He spoke with such pain and sadness and regret, head filled with memories she hadn't known _existed_ until it was too late to turn back. Guilt, misery, so many emotions she could hardly read them all. And she was drawn to him. So, so drawn…

His promises to her rang in her ears as he told her about the torpor, as he hid nothing from her, speaking of its dangers. "I swear to you by Lady Mara that I will do _everything_ in my power to keep any harm from befalling you." Even now the words made her shiver. "I will watch over you as you slumber, to ensure your safety." Why did she believe him? Why did she trust him? He'd hardly looked from the book, but when he met her eyes she had seen something in them. Protection, concern, worry. In that moment she knew. Erandur, wouldn't let anything happen to her. He would die first. And he had nearly done so, many times along that perilous journey.

ES

She had intrigued him. He had known that trust could not be given lightly, but she intrigued him. He would not tell her everything, not yet, but in time. He could only hope she forgave him. From the moment they entered the temple he grew increasingly protective of the young woman before him. She was Dawnstar's only hope. She was _his_ only hope. Before he knew it he was making promises to her that he had never uttered to another before. He vowed to protect her with his life, swore to keep any harm from her.

He had never felt more terrified than the moment she disappeared after drinking the torpor. He scoured that temple for her, for any sign of her, anything at all. Mara, please, let her still live. Let him find her or let him be taken in her place. Vaermina, release her from your spell. Cowardly Daedra, _answer_ me! He had found her almost at the start. It had taken all of his will power not to embrace her. It would be wrong. Then she breathed his name, Cassimir… Cassimir… he had forgotten what it was to hear that name. She showed no prejudice, no judgement, and he could have broken down in front of her there and then, fallen to his knees and wept for a life that was long over. He didn't, though, he didn't.

They saw the two who had survived and his stomach had dropped. What had happened to them? No… what had happened to _him_? They attacked and he defended with the only excuse that came to mind, a stupid one. "I wasn't ready to sleep." He could have cut his own throat with those words. Oh gods, what had happened to him? She watched silently. They had fought the two priests. They had killed his best friends. He couldn't hold back anymore, and tears fell silently from his eyes.

ES

She listened to his words, heart sinking. He spoke with bravery, voice unwavering; yet his eyes… in his eyes shone tears, so out of place against the black skin. "Is this punishment for my past? Is it Mara's will to torment me so?" he muttered to her softly.

She placed her hand upon his shoulder and he shivered. He couldn't bear to look at her, but he didn't have to. She moved in front of him and made him gaze into her eyes. Softly she breathed, "We had no choice."

He gazed upon her, letting the tears silently fall. Closing his eyes tightly he took covered her hand. "Yes, you're right," he replied.

ES

She watched him mutter the spell in an undertone, unheard by her ears. Would he turn on her? Had she been deceived by him like so often before? He heard her draw the sword and he knew… He knew what she had been told. He didn't stop. He wouldn't. He couldn't. Let her do with him what she would, but he would die trying to redeem his errors.

She watched, the words echoing still, driving her to tears. "No…" she finally breathed, voice like venom. "No…" she repeated. She would not kill him. She could swear she heard an outraged shriek. All at once the skull vanished and there was silence. She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for him to strike. Nothing. She opened her eyes slowly and gazed into his face.

Gently he watched her, gratefulness in his eyes. She stood at the bottom of the stairs listening to his words. Silhouette outlined in the light he gently said, "Forgive me if I don't appear relieved. This temple had taken its toll on me."

She swallowed and moved up to him. Playing absently with his beard she asked, "Are you going to be alright?"

He saw it in her appearance. She was afraid. Afraid of what his answer would be. He told her he had planned to stay here forever, living out his days trying to compensate for the wrong he had committed in his past. She was distraught. Softly he smiled at her and placed his hands on her waist. He offered himself to her then and there, a companion if ever she needed one to accompany her. "Daughter, do you fear I will do some harm to myself?" he asked quietly as tears fell from her eyes. She nodded without a word. Gently he drew her close to him and said, "You will find me here alive; whenever you choose to come for me. Upon Mara's name I swear I will be here."

"Come with me," she whispered softly, gazing up into his eyes. His heart leapt upon seeing the look in her eyes. Slowly his lips parted and he knew… Mara had given him a gift that could never be matched, never be replaced. Here stood the redemption he so sought after, the blessing the goddess had promised. "She has given me to you," the Dragonborn whispered softly to him. Wordlessly he drew her close and kissed her then and there.


	11. Bandit

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: This one will be fairly long. Try coming up with a personality for characters that aren't supposed to have one. Anyway, this bandit really does exist. You find him in the cave when trailing Golum-Ei for the Thieves Guild. He just swims in the water, never gets out. To investigate, yes, but then he immediately returns. It reminded me of the selkie's of folklore. And yes, I did avoid killing this one. He amused me, just with the strange behavior.)

Bandit

She went through the cave, no care, no fear, hiding in shadows and tailing the one the Thieves Guild had tasked her to follow. She let her arrows fly without hesitation. Each one met its mark on the intended target. She spared none that stood in her way. Why should she? Shortcuts were unimportant. She was more than equipped to take on any who stood in her way. Or so she thought… She was wrong.

She slipped into the water as if it were her second home. After all, what bandit would think to watch the oceans depths for one who was never supposed to be there in the first place? She swam as far as she could beneath the waves. Surfacing to breath she checked her surroundings, the water dripping from her hair. Her eyes gazed across the surface, taking in the little traps that had been set just above the water as a precaution. It was nothing, easily avoided. Then she peeked around the corner. Then her confidence fled.

She caught her breath, paling. It couldn't be, but it was. Up ahead… a man was there, treading the water effortlessly, watching over the dark cave. He was swimming, or bathing, she wasn't sure which. He was diving beneath the waves and resurfacing, gently pushing his hair, black as midnight, from his face. His eyes, as dark as his hair, turned in her direction and she pulled farther into the shadows, gazing out at him. Had he seen her? He made no move. She cursed the fact there was nowhere to stand, nowhere to draw her arrows from; but as she watched, trying to find a way around him, her eyes softened.

She cocked her head curiously. He was young. His short beard did nothing to mask his beauty, only enhanced it. He looked up and she followed his gaze. There was a woman standing there looking annoyed, chiding the young man who simply nodded or shook his head, yet he made no move to respond to the woman's words. Silently she slipped back and climbed onto dry land. As long as that young man was there, she couldn't get by in the water. Silently she slipped into the shadows and drew her bow, nearing as close as she dared.

She saw his head plainly. It was a clear shot, a one-hit kill. She drew back her arm and took a breath, focusing; but she didn't let the arrow fly… She just watched. Finally she lowered it. Too many men had died on this escapade already. Besides, there was a path around them. The frostbite spiders would be no match. Perhaps this once she would make an exception for a shortcut. She never thought on the young man again. Not until after she had found Golum-Ei and confronted him. She had no reason to kill the scoundrel, why should she bother, and Golum left quickly.

ES

Fear took hold of her heart as she swam back the way she'd come. She had killed every bandit in this cave. All but three, the third that she just noticed now, walking above her, and the two she had detoured around. All too soon she was back. The young man still swam there as if the water was his element. She found a standing place and crouched in hiding, drawing her bow. She had weakened before, but not this time. This time the man would die, as would the woman. Again a clear shot, a perfect shot. Again she drew back her bow. Again she couldn't do it… Perhaps if she finished the woman first? So she switched targets and shot the bandit girl, a mage she realized quickly enough.

The woman was downed by her arrow and the young man hurried out of the water, searching for the one who had killed his friend, calling for comrades that wouldn't come to him. She would escape the remaining two bandits without problem. She slipped into the water again. She thought she was in the clear. She was wrong. He looked just as she was about to dive, and his black eyes burned brightly with fury and hatred. He began to shoot arrows at her. She cursed herself a thousand times for letting the man live as an arrow grazed her. Quickly she swam beneath the water, hoping he would lose sight of her. She scrambled onto land and ran towards the exit of the cave. She had to have lost them by now! No… Oh no, she wasn't that lucky.

ES

She raced towards the door to safety. The world seemed to go in slow motion as desperation flowed through her. All at once she felt the piercing sting of an arrow in her back. She cried out in pain and fell to the ground. Her body screamed in protest. She gasped, clutching the dirt. She tried to crawl towards the door, but she was dizzy, bleeding badly. The arrow had been poisoned! Then all at once she felt a presence above her, dark and dangerous. She heard a sword unsheathed and closed her eyes tightly, waiting for the young man to finish her, cursing herself for letting him live. Pity, mercy. Never before had she let either rule her. Now… now she was going to die for this one exception…

But the young man never struck. She heard him replace his sword. She felt him grip the arrow in her back. Roughly he pulled it out. She screamed in pain. Oh gods, would he let her bleed out here, let her die in the pain that she would have spared him even if she _had_ struck out her hand against him? "Please," she gasped, shivering now. So close to death… She'd never been so close before, and it terrified her.

"If I wanted you dead, you would be dead," the young man replied in an otherworldly tone. Otherworldly? What was this man? She heard his companion catch up. Roughly the other man dragged her up by the hair and held his blade to her throat, ready to kill her.

He paused, though, seeming to think better of it, then darkly laughed. She shuddered at the sound. It was far from pleasant. "An excellent shot, my friend. The murder of our fellows is on her hands, and she will pay in full. Death _would_ be too quick." The young man made no reply, just walked away. The other followed him, dragging her along.

ES

For four days she was left in darkness, silence. They had gagged and blindfolded her; shackled together her wrists and ankles and thrown her into a cage, chaining her neck as well. The arrow wound had become infected, she knew; the pain was excruciating. She was hungry, and so, so desperately thirsty. They had left her to starve to death, or to die of thirst. Hah! She only wished that were so; but she felt the black eyes watching her, boring into her soul and being; the eyes of the man she had dubbed the Seal Lord and Selkie. It frightened her. It frightened her so, so much…

That fourth night she began to weep helplessly; scared, miserable, and in pain. She hadn't wanted them to hear her sob, but they heard. The Fisherman, as she had labelled the blonde one, was laughing at her, the selkie was as silent as the grave. One plotted her demise, ordered the other to leave her to die. The other came to her that night, late. She heard the cage door being unlocked. Heard footsteps crossing over to her. The scent of the ocean breeze washed over her making her calm, tired. The man who approached now knelt in front of her and gently removed the gag from her mouth. She trembled in fear. What was happening? Then she felt the cool touch of water upon her lips. Desperately she began to drink. She felt the sensation of food, and she never thought she could be so glad for bread.

The actions stopped and she wondered, had the Seal Lord left? She knew it to be him, because the Fisherman was never silent, always taunting her, always belittling her. Then there was light. He had removed the blindfold! She cringed at the sudden brightness, closing her eyes tightly. Slowly, very slowly, her eyes adjusted, and she saw the man with the haunting voice gazing into her eyes, into her heart, into her soul.

"Who are you?" she barely managed to whisper.

"The one you spared," he replied, and a chill went through her. How had he known? Without a word more he unlocked the shackle about her neck. "Lean forward," he ordered simply. She swallowed but obeyed, leaning ahead as far as she could. "Here me, my lady, I am not going to hurt you. I tell you this now because what I am about to do will frighten you, confuse you; but you must trust me," he declared. If any man let alone a _bandit_, had breathed those words to her, she would have laughed, or fought, but as it was she could hardly dare to move.

He lifted her dress. She nearly screamed, paling. He pulled it up until her back was exposed. She willed her frightened heart to slow its pace. The black eyed man examined the arrow wound on her back and pursed his lips. All at once he drew out some sort of salve and applied it gently onto the injury. With a touch like that of sea foam he wrapped it deftly and let her dress fall, covering her once more. She looked up at him fearfully. Without a word more he rose and walked out, leaving her to marvel.

ES

She fought desperately against her attacker, screaming in terror, pleading through tears. She had been left alone; alone with the Fisherman, the cruel one. She couldn't fight, wrists and ankles still bound in shackles as he dragged her by the hair from her prison of five days. He had found out, she sensed. Found out the Seal Lord had cared for her. Oh gods, what had he done with the raven haired highwayman? He thrust her down to the ground, pinned her, stripped her and relished in the sight before him, smirking cruelly. He would ravage her, she knew, oh gods, he would violate her and she couldn't fight back!

But as he prepared to advance she felt the atmosphere change around them. She felt another's eyes watching, black and cold. She felt the steely glare, and she knew the Fisherman had as well, for he stopped kissing her where he had no right to, and quickly he looked up. She sobbed as she heard the footsteps cross towards them. The Fisherman suddenly had the point of a sword at his throat. Slowly he rose from off of her and put up his hands, backing away. "Did you think I was so stupid?" her savior questioned in his otherworldly voice. She opened her eyes and found herself gazing up at the bandit selkie. After a long moment the blond pulled her to her feet, though he never bothered to hide her indecency. Her attacker pulled her into the water, towards a rock column. He bound her to it tightly, her arms around it as far as they could go, her legs strapped tightly against it. He kissed the back of her neck in a single act of defiance and swam back to the other.

"Farewell, maiden. Let the tide have you. The sea will take more pleasure from you than _I_ ever could have," the blonde called to her. Coldly he laughed and walked to the fire pit in order to sleep.

She closed her eyes tightly, feeling the water rising. The tide was rising. "The ocean will avenge the lives you took," the black eyed Seal Lord declared, watching her softly, tone gentle. And what of you, young man? What of you? Have you never taken a life? Have you never slaughtered an innocent…? Lady, I do not claim innocence. I will never claim innocence. If you knew the lives I'd taken, you would not have spared me.

ES

She wept softly as the water rose around her. She felt the black eyes watching, always watching, tearing her apart from the inside and arousing in her guilt unlike any she had ever felt; guilt and hatred; and she wondered, could she claim not to deserve death? No, she couldn't… Would no more mercy come to her, as she had shown none so many times? Oh curse the day she had refused to kill the young man. Mercy be banished to the depths of Oblivion, pity be labelled pointless… Yet she knew that, if given the chance, she would have done nothing differently.

The water was above her head now. She struggled in a desperate attempt for survival. Not like this, not like this! Please, not like this. Oh thief and murderer, bandit and marauder, rescue me, I beg you. Oh selkie, do not let me die like this. Do not let your watery kingdom be defiled with my blood. Then all at once a hand was place upon her cheek, gently turning her head. Her eyes widened. He was there. He covered her lips with his hands. She shook her head. Could he not see he was too late? Even if he managed to free her, it would be too late. She coughed, feeling the breath leave her lungs. All at once, though, the young man's lips were covering her own, breathing life giving air into her. Air? Impossible. Unless… her eyes widened in disbelief. With no explanation he took her and drew her close, swimming to the surface as if he were one with the sea, as if he truly were the selkie that she had dubbed him. She could hold her breath no longer and surrendered to the lack of oxygen.

He laid her on the ground softly and bent over her. He cocked his head, examining her. Then all at once he leaned, breathing air into her once more, coaxing her to wake up. He heard his companion awaken, heard the other shouting curses at him. He didn't care. Her eyes flickered open and fell upon him softly.

ES

"Please," he said as he knelt on the ground, near death. She expected more, expected whimpering, weak begging, but no. Please was all he said. The other lay dead; at least she assumed he was dead. Now this one, the mysterious Seal Lord whom she spared, knelt, waiting for the death blow he just knew would come… Or would it?

She watched him. Please… that was all he would say… Oh gods, that was all he would say, and that word was burned into her mind playing over and over and over. Tears in her eyes she replaced her sword and turned and ran. He watched after her silently, awed. They didn't notice the body of the Fisherman was no longer there.

She ran as fast as she could, tears in her eyes. Mercy and pity had gotten her into this mess in the _first_ place. It should have been the end of her mercy. Yet once again those black eyes appeared in her mind, watching, waiting, watching, waiting, reading her… She didn't notice the attack. Not until the blade tore into her flesh. She screamed in pain, pulling away instinctively and backing into a pillar. She looked quickly over and paled. The Fisherman… He was still alive! No, it couldn't _be_… He attacked again with every intent to kill. Forcing away the pain, she spun and parried the blow with the blade she so cherished. She was weak, though, disoriented, and he… he was fully aware.

He spun on her, and she couldn't move quickly enough. His blade came at her to run her through; and then all at once _he_ was there… All at once her rescuer, her selkie, had run to her and taken her arms, spinning her around and placing himself as her shield. All at once the blade met its mark, piercing him through! His cry of pain filled the cave. He was collapsing and she screamed, and the Fisherman fled… and she did not follow.

ES

She fell next to the young man and took his hands, tears in her eyes. "No, no. Don't," she pled, seeing his once glittering black eyes, so beautiful, so full of life, beginning to dull. "Don't you dare," she begged, and her voice cracked.

He was gasping for breath. Weakly his hand reached up to her face and cupped it lovingly, gently wiping away the tear from her eyes that she never knew had fallen. "Go, Dragonborn," he ordered her.

"No," she refused. "No," she repeated again, this time gently drawing him up and tenderly letting his head rest upon her neck, softly stroking his black hair as she cradled the dying man. "You will live. You _must_ live. I will not let you die…"

"Oh most beautiful one amongst women, dry your eyes. Do not waist your tears on me," he said softly.

"I will not let you die," she repeated. He shook his head. Painfully he looked up at her. He quietly gazed into the maidens eyes. Oh only the immortals themselves could know how he wanted to kiss her, but no. No… He leaned weakly into her neck again, waiting. She burst into tears rocking him desperately, pleading with the immortals. Curse mercy and pity, for if she had shown none, they wouldn't be here now. If she had shown none, she would never have come to love the highwayman. Oh let him live, gods of Tamriel… Let him live, or let death take him swiftly…

* * *

(A/N: It's up to the reader's imagination if he lives or dies, but while writing this I realized a lot of these oneshots had the potential to be expanded. In fact all of them did, if some endings were changed. Who knows, in future I may have stories based off of these oneshots.)


	12. Save Me

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today. First thing that came to mind when these two speaking in Riften.)

Save Me

To this day he didn't know what had possessed him to go to her for money. Sapphire was _not_ one to be trifled with. He supposed it had been a young man's desire. She was pretty, beautiful, and she had been quick tongued. Desire gave way to horror on realizing what he'd done. What had he done? Now she came to him, demanded payment. In fact, if not for the Dragonborn he doubted he would be alive today.

He saw her race from Riften, tears in her eyes. "Give me a horse!" she ordered him simply.

"Sapphire?" he questioned, alarmed and worried.

"Give me a horse!" she screamed. He handed her over one in shock. Nimbly she swung up onto its back and galloped away.

ES

To this moment he didn't know what had possessed him to follow her, but he had. He swung onto his own and galloped after her, weapon at his side. He watched her reign in the animal and leap off, racing to the edge of a cliff. His heart skipped a beat. She was going to jump! All at once, however, she stopped herself and looked out over the land. All at once she sobbed. Silently he slid from his horses back and snuck towards her, terror gripping his heart. She wanted to jump, he sensed it, saw it.

She closed her eyes tightly and stepped nearer to the edge. She had nothing here, nothing. She didn't want this life, she wanted her pain to end, the memories to leave. She had opened up to the Dragonborn and it had torn old scars open once more. This time… This time she didn't know if she could handle it. To die… Oh death, sweet death, sweep her away. She was worthless, trash, nothing… She felt herself leaning forward. This was it. She would fall, this would end, no more pain, no more suffering. She didn't hear the footsteps racing up behind her. She didn't hear the voice cry out, "Sapphire!"

ES

She sighed as the air began to pick up, but all at once there were arms around her waist pulling back, tearing her from death's grip. "No," she gasped in terror, regressing back to then… The bandits, the murders, her family dead. They dragged her from her home as a captive. They violated her, oh Deadra, please, not again, please! Nocturnal, help me! Mistress, rescue me! "No!" she screamed, trying to fight back, trying to reach the safety of the edge. She took her dagger, stabbed back at whoever held her. There was a cry of pain but her attacker wouldn't release her, he wouldn't! "Help!" she screamed, sobbing helplessly now as he seized her wrist and squeezed with such force the dagger fell from her grip.

She was on the ground now, sobbing and clawing, calling out to any savior. "Sapphire, Sapphire, stop it!" the man was calling desperately to her. She knew that voice, she knew that voice… She opened her eyes in terror and met his own, dark brown and terrified.

"Shadr," she gasped out, choking on her sobs.

"Please, Sapphire, stop this. Please," he pled. Why? Why did he plead with her? Why had he stopped her? Why wasn't he taking his vengeance on her, for she knew she was at his mercy. He was by no means a fighter, by no means a warrior, but he was strong, she felt his strength as he pinned her; strength she'd never begun to imagine he had.

"Oh divines!" she cried out, leaning back helplessly. "Do what you will," she hissed venomously.

ES

He stared down at her in shock. Do what he would? What did she fear? What did she think he was… He paled on realizing, felt sick to the stomach. He gasped and quickly released her, moving back. She lay there sobbing, still. There was silence. Finally he asked, "What made you think I would harm you?"

She suddenly recovered, sobs stopping, and she glared at him in fear, anger, misery, shock. After a moment she got to her knees and hugged her body tightly looking ashamedly down. "Nothing," she answered.

"Don't lie to me!" he shot.

"Why do you care?!" she demanded.

"What was I _supposed_ to do?!" he yelled. "You were about to throw yourself from a _cliff_! The moment I stopped you, you began to scream in terror. You thought… you thought I would _violate_ you."

"You're no different than any of them!" she vehemently replied.

"What?" he asked. His eyes widened as he thought this over. He looked at her in disbelief. "Sapphire…" he began. She looked slowly up at him, tears in her eyes. Finally she told him. What choice did she have? She told him everything.

ES

He held her tightly to his body, hardly aware of when he had taken her into his arms. She sobbed into him helplessly, terrified. What could he do? "It's over," he quietly murmured to her.

"It will never be over," she replied.

Before he could think it through he said in a hollow and dark tone he _himself_ never knew he possessed, "Any man who raises a finger against you will die at my hand." He didn't know what drove him to speak those words, but he had no intentions of taking them back. She tried to laugh, because surely this stable hand had to be joking, but it became a sob as she buried herself deeper into his arms. "Any man who speaks so much as a crude word about you… he will lose his tongue."

"You couldn't fight to save your _own_ life let alone mine," she hissed.

"Lady, you underestimate me," he replied.

"Do I?" she challenged.

"I will die before I let such harm come to you again," he answered.

She wanted to laugh, so why could she only weep? She wanted to belittle and insult him, to tear him down until there was nothing left of his dignity, so why instead did she try to disappear into his arms and will the world to pass away around them? "Save me," she pled weakly. "Save me…" she repeated, shaking her head in denial.6

"Then trust in me," he whispered to her, and never since childhood had she felt so completely safe and protected. Never since childhood had she ever trusted a man like this.

* * *

(A/N: Quest References: I don't know the name but if you talk to Shadr after his scene with Sapphire he'll give it to you.)


	13. Innocent Angel

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Third up today.)

Innocent Angel

He was using her. She knew he was using her. He read her weakness, spotted the way she watched him; intrigued, curious, inquisitive. He'd read her weakness… He'd played off of it. What else was to be expected of a Thalmor? They showed no mercy to their enemies, they used all they had against them. She hated them. She hated all but him…

She knew she should despise him, she knew he was heartless. She knew he would turn on her. Still, part of her had hope… Hope that one day he would return all she felt for him. What did she feel? She sometimes wondered herself. She couldn't forget him, not his appearance, not his clothing, not his voice. He consumed her mind and she wondered; was it a trap of _his_ or her own foolishness that let him so close?

ES

"Are you quite sure we need to be speaking?" he vaguely asked, uninterested in what the young woman had to say to him, or why she was trying to read over his shoulder.

She started and blushed. Apparently she hadn't thought he'd noticed. Typical mage. "I'd like to know more about the Thalmor," she suddenly said, and he paused in the midst of his reading, shocked. She didn't know? Slowly he had turned to face her looking incredulous.

"You're joking," he replied. She blinked naively. Mere child, hah! Stupid little girl. How did she _not_ know? And even those who knew never bothered to ask to learn _more_. However, who was he to miss an opportunity to brag? Proudly he rose and answered her questions curtly. He tried to leave her, but her curious appetite was far from satisfied.

"Your robes… they're very unique. I like them," she murmured, examining his garb.

He scoffed. "If you're looking to be killed, go ahead and take them," he answered disdainfully. "Now if you'll excuse me I have many important things on my mind. Your concerns are not among them."

"There's a rumor that you're spying for the Thalmor," she remarked, eyes becoming excited as she asked, thrilled at the idea of a spy.

He had become furious, eyes glittering. She'd become fearful. Quickly he replied, "What? Preposterous! And just the sort of thing I would expect from Mages who have nothing better to do with their time. I have made it quite clear that my only role here is as an advisor to the arch mage. I would suggest that you not further spread this rumor."

She blushed deeply and looked down, embarrassed. "I'm sorry," she quietly apologized. How pathetic, weak, helpless. Stupid, annoying child, who _knew_ how many years his junior. But wait… that look in her eyes… His eyes lit up in realization as she quickly hurried away. Interest. Fury was overtaken by amusement as a plan formed. She was interested in him, was she? Intriguing.

ES

She neared the Auger's door and a voice spoke, saying, "Your perseverance will only lead you to disappointment." She refused to leave, trying once more to enter. "Still you persist? Very well, you may enter," the ghostly voice declared.

She obeyed and her eyes widened, lips parting as she gazed at the majestic orb. She shivered in fear and amazement then said, "So you're the Auger of Dunlain?"

"I am that, which you have been seeking. Your efforts are in vain. It has already begun. But those who have sent you have not told you what they seek. What _you_ seek," he answered.

She cringed. He was right. "And what is it I'm seeking?" she wondered.

ES

He kept a cautious eye on her, ever watching, ever waiting for opportunity to strike. He even allowed her access to his chambers. She was suspicious, yes, but suspicion was overwhelmed by happiness, and oh how he saw it in her. Excitement, desire, amazement. A little girl's idea of love. Hah! Love was for the weak. He let her sit at his feet by the fireplace, let her place her hands daintily on his lap as he read to her from various volumes. He would give her this much, she was studious, inquisitive, highly intelligent yet so emotionally and socially undeveloped. The heart of a child…

The stories genuinely interested her, the lessons she soaked up like a sponge. He had quickly become her favored tutor. How precious. How naïve. How easy. It was almost a shame how simple she made it. Until, that is, he confronted her about Saarthal. Her intelligence sprang up then, her suspicion, her true senses, and he had been infuriated. Infuriated but highly impressed. He thought he was farther along with her than that. Apparently she was more aware than he'd given her credit for. He'd tried to make her feel foolish, put her down, but she would have none of it. She gave him virtually nothing then walked away head high and proud. He still wondered… why hadn't he taken his eyes from off of her until she was long out of sight?

ES

"I was told to find you," she said to the Auger of Dunlain.

"Indeed, so you have come looking though you do not know why. Like others before you, you blindly follow a path to your own destruction. The Thalmor came seeking answers as well, unaware they will be his undoing. Your path now follows his, though you will arrive too late," he stated.

She felt her skin become pale, felt the blood drain away. The Thalmor? Ancano… Now she shook in fear, unable to believe what she had heard. His undoing? You will arrive too late? What did he mean? Why did it so frighten her to hear it? A childish thought… she didn't want to be too late.

ES

He watched her in the courtyard as she fought against the dragon, he alone at her back. No one else was near, only them. They attacked with everything they had until finally the beast collapsed. He watched in awe as the soul was absorbed into this child's delicate and fragile body; so thin, so weak, no hint of muscle at all. Yet she had taken this beast down almost on her own. He had done precious little, perhaps a quarter of the damage compared to her.

She gasped and nearly collapsed. Swiftly he caught her out of reflex, looking annoyed the moment he realized what he'd done. She was near fainting, apparently still new at the sensation. Oh what he wouldn't give to have the power she held in her. Stupid little angel child, she didn't even realize. With a huff he picked her up in his arms and carried her back to her chamber, laying her gently on the bed and leaving. Now what to do with that dragon's remains? Just what he needed now, more inconveniences.

ES

"Thalmor? What Thalmor?" she asked, playing dumb.

"The one who calls himself Ancano. He seeks information about the Eye, but what he will find shall be quite different. His path will cross yours in time, but first you must find that which you need," the thing answered.

His path would cross hers… oh how she had longed to hear those words, but judging by the way he spoke, this path was not the path she wanted to cross. "What do I need?" she asked, hoping that somehow, someway, it would save everyone. Him included. Especially him… She didn't want him to die. Despite the cruelty, despite the wickedness, she didn't want him to die…

ES

He had her pinned beneath him, her body warm against his, helpless, fragile, soft. He hissed and shivered. He took her lips yet again. She returned eagerly, fearfully, he couldn't tell which emotion it was, or if it were a mix. She was shaking yet didn't let him pull away. Delicate as a crystal flower, a leaf trembling in the powerful wind that determined to carry her from her protection, her safety, yet as bold and determined as any warrior would be. He felt her every movement. Oh divines! If anyone saw them it would be Oblivion to pay.

She was the porcelain angel of all Winterhold. She was a little sister to the apprentices, a beloved niece of the teachers, a daughter to Savos and Mirabelle, a grandchild to Tolfdir and that orc librarian whose name he'd never bothered to remember. Urag, perhaps? She was the embodiment of goodness and everything perfect and beautiful and right in the world. He was the ebony demon, the despised one, enemy of all. He was the incarnation of cruelty and hatred, of everything frightful and dangerous that had ever existed. And he held their angelic child in his merciless grasp, writhing beneath him as together they took a piece of the purity that had been hers.

She gasped at a motion. He took her lips and she moaned. She was nothing but a means to an end, a tool to manipulate, to use. She knew she was. He saw that she knew. She wasn't blind. Foolish little girl, to let him treat her in such a way. With one word she could have the whole of the college after him. With one word she could end everything. With one word he would leave and never return. Wait, that wasn't right. No, he wouldn't leave, he wouldn't flee. Not when he was so close. Oh gods, with one word he feared he would forget the very reason he were here…

ES

"You, and those aiding you, wish to know more about the Eye of Magnus. You wish to avoid the disaster of which you are not yet aware. To see through Magnus' eye without being blinded, you require his staff. Events now spiral quickly toward the inevitable center, so you must act with haste. Take this knowledge to your Arch-Mage," the Auger replied to her. With that it vanished, and she was left to herself.

Lost in her thoughts she returned to the courtyard and went up to the high balcony of the college, not even acknowledging the words others spoke to her. She stood on the terrace gazing out over the sea, tears in her eye. The memory of that night was clear in mind. Oh divines, what had she done…? What had she _done_ to herself? What had she allowed _him_ to do? She wrapped her arms tightly and protectively around her body and sobbed, looking miserably down.

"There you are. Ancano has been looking for you," Faralda suddenly said, finding her. She shivered at the thought and turned, trying to hide her tears, trying to be brave.

"Thank you," she replied.

"What's wrong?" Faralda concernedly asked, immediately alarmed at the young ones expression.

"Nothing," she answered, quickly walking by.

ES

Ancano shook off the dazed feeling. Why did he feel as though he'd missed something important? "You asked to see a student of the college, here she is," he testily said to Quinitar, the Psyjic Monk. Humph, he was hiding something. He was hiding something, and his porcelain angel knew what it was. He almost couldn't identify the feeling that shot through him. When he did… jealousy. Jealousy then anger when she left, not even looking at him; and he knew that things were drawing to a close. He had to move quickly now.

He summoned one of his associates to him. Quickly he ensured they were not disturbed and he ordered the angel's execution. Even if she made it to Labyrinthian, she would never leave that place alive. He watched silently as his companion bowed then left. He watched, and for a moment he almost forgot himself. For a moment he almost called his fellow back. For a moment he would have done anything to erase everything he had ordered. But he didn't. After all, why did her wellbeing concern him anyway?

ES

She wasn't surprised when the Thalmor man faced her, blocking her exit from Labyrinthian. She wasn't shocked in any way. She had expected a treachery to happen far sooner than now. The high elf wouldn't be reasoned with. She had no choice. She killed him and left quickly, never wanting to look back.

She wasn't surprised when she learned of Mirabelle's death. Just another body to add to the death toll surrounding the Thalmor waiting inside. She wasn't surprised to see him there, attacking the orb with his full power, drawing power from it unlike any she had ever believed could exist. She wasn't surprised when the paralysis spell hit, knocking all but her to the ground and leaving the battle to only them.

ES

She watched silently, tears in her eyes. He told her she would never stop him. She said nothing, just watched in misery. Did you feel nothing for me, Ancano? Of course you didn't. I knew you didn't. Hope and fact were completely different things. Oh how I wish you could have felt _something_, though. _Anything_. "Stop this," she suddenly pled.

He laughed coldly and replied as he pulled away, powers peaked and ready to put to the test, "Stupid child, it is too late to stop this now."

"Please," she begged, and he glared at her furiously, his spells prepared to launch. Divines only knew how he hated that word. "I don't want to kill you," she suddenly added, and for a moment his guard dropped.

"I'm afraid it won't be _me_ joining Savos and Mirabelle," he answered haughtily, quickly recovering.

"Don't make me kill you," she begged; but she knew it was too late for pleas. He attacked, and she had no more choices.

ES

He staggered away from her behind a pillar, gasping for breath and trying to heal himself. He was exhausted, though, his magic drained by the Staff of Magnus. All at once she was there glaring coldly at him, eyes filled with anger and hatred; but there was misery there, and sadness, and regret and… and love… Tears shone in the angel's eyes as she gazed upon him. "Beg me to spare you," she pled with him. "Pray for forgiveness and mercy, and I shall show it."

He didn't look up at her. Her words spun around in his head at a blinding speed killing any other thought that had been in his mind. All at once his will to fight was gone. All at once power seemed so meaningless. All at once death seemed more terrifying to him than ever before, and yet more comforting than he could have ever imagined it to feel. Pity? Mercy? Hah! Only from the embodiment of kindness. Only from her. Shaking with hatred and anger and fear he gazed up at her, eyes glittering, teeth clenched, and replied, "Death comes to all."

He wouldn't admit it to himself, he wouldn't admit it to her. He couldn't. To do so would mean the end. To do so would mean to be wrong, to be helpless, to be a slave. He knew exactly what he wouldn't admit. He never would, not with his dying breath, not with his eyes. She would never know that she had enraptured a monster. She would never know that she had won what she'd so desired. She would never know she held his heart and soul bound forever to hers. She would never know how much he had come to love her…

"Finish it," he hissed with passionate hatred. He had lost the war, but he would take one victory from her, hold one battle. "Finish me," he challenged again.

She sobbed and nearly backed down, but it was too late for that. Far too late. Looking up once more at him she whispered, as she charged up her final spell, "I loved you." His eyes widened as she let it go. The pain of the finishing blow never began to compare with the anguish he felt as his heart finally broke. My crystal angel, one moment more and I would have broken, I would have pled and been yours. Innocent seraph, if one last breath could have departed from my lips, you would have known… You would have known how passionately I loved you…

* * *

(A/N: Quest References: Eye of Magnus? It was somewhere around that part of the Mage's College quest line.)


	14. Wisdom

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: In response to a reviewer's request, I actually _did_ plan to do one with those two, so you can expect one eventually. First up today.)

Wisdom

She loved him. She knew it, he knew it. Everyone _knew_ it, so why did they continue denying it? Fear, apprehension, stubbornness? Truth be told she'd never met anyone quite _like_ him. He was confusing, intelligent enough to keep it that way, next to impossible to figure out. She wanted to know, though. Goodness knew how much… But did _he_ love _her_? Did he even know _how_ to love? Was he too far gone, lost in a world of his own? No, she couldn't believe that. She _wouldn't_ believe that. After all, he was here with her now.

She looked beside her in the bed. He slept soundly. She moved over to him and gently began to rub his chest. "Wake up," she sang softly. "Come on." He groaned and turned from her. She shook him lightly. He rolled onto his back and looked sleepily over, blinking innocently. Innocence… the last word you would think to put to one who knew from childhood that innocence wouldn't last. It had always been the last emotion he dared display to anyone. Absently his hand went to her cheek, tenderly cupping it. She smiled softly. He smirked and drew his hand away, sitting up. She watched quietly. So many things he tried to bury away, pain, weakness, mourning… She remembered the night she had seen it all; the night he revealed to her what he had hidden for so long ago…

ES

"Are you not coming?" the Dragonborn had asked his shield sibling as she watched their exchange from behind.

He'd answered softly, "Kodlak was right. I let vengeance rule my heart. I regret nothing of what we did at Driftshade. But I can't go any further with my mind fogged or my heart grieved."

The Dragonborn had taken it at face value, but she had wondered. I let vengeance rule my heart… But didn't they all? She had not been innocent of such a fault. After Skor's death… Oh vengeance ruled her that day. How it did. Why, then, did it so affect him? I can't go any further with my mind fogged, or my heart grieved. Vilkas, we all have grieved, we all still do. Why do you look so sad, so pained? Why must all the guilt and misery and responsibility fall solely on you? Let us share in it, my friend, my dear one. Let all of us share… But he wouldn't be deterred, no matter how the Dragonborn pled with his friend. So they left him behind, and her mind never _did_ stay completely on their journey through the tomb.

ES

He sat there on the ledge, just sat silently, looking down at the burning blue flame. She stood in front of it trying hard to ignore his grieved gaze. She turned to look up at him. He feared this gift they shared. He believed it was a curse, but how could something so powerful be a curse? Why did he seem to understand so much more about everything than she had even begun to realize? He was tired, she saw. How long had he looked so worn, she wondered? Blessed with the wisdom and intelligence of Ysgramor, cursed with it. And she knew how his wisdom was another curse. He was bitter, cold, hardened…

But she saw tears shining in his eyes. They wouldn't fall. They never did… Rarely did. Farkas had claimed to see him weep before, but only Farkas. After a time she'd stopped believing it. Until now… Now she saw a silvery tear slide down his cheek. Still his gaze stayed on the flame and still her heart shattered piece by piece watching him. Finally she couldn't take it. She moved quietly towards him. He hardly spared her a glance before looking back at the flame, always the flame. Look into another's eyes, Vilkas, for once; and do not turn away with disgust or disdain. See that someone who loves you so much is hurting for you.

"Are you alright?" she questioned softly, kneeling next to him.

"Are any of us?" he asked in return.

"Please, look at me," she begged. Begged? She didn't beg! She'd _never_ begged!

He tensed then turned slowly, eyes so filled with wisdom, intelligence, and understanding, that she felt he could stare right into her soul. After a long moment he said, "We are cursed. There is no way around it. We are cursed. Just, some handle it better." She was silent. Part of her wanted to argue but the other part wanted to burst into tears and hold him so tightly that all their pain would be washed away; all _his_ pain. "I want to be free…" he suddenly added, and her resolved crumbled.

ES

Gently she turned him to face her and gazed into his eyes. "You are a slave only if you choose to be one," she declared.

He raised an eyebrow and for a moment she saw a hint of respect and awe. Quickly he hid it behind his mask again. He gently placed his hand over hers and held it, drawing it away from his face. He never let go, though. She gazed at it seemingly fascinated. His hand was rough, dry, strong, yet in a way gentle and tender. She found herself wondering what it would be like to feel him draw his fingers through her hair, across her face. She froze mid-thought and cursed herself for even _thinking_ such a thing. It was inappropriate here. Now was not the time for such thoughts.

She saw him smirk, eyes becoming amused. Was she blushing? He chuckled and she inwardly cursed again. She had to be. There was no hope hiding it again, however, when his hand went to her cheek, caressing it lightly; when it slid into her hair and combed it softly back. Then there was pity, and she was aware she was weeping silently, tears falling from her eyes. But he leaned forward and softly pressed his lips to her forehead. Her lips parted gently and she didn't know whether it was Skor and Kodlak she wept for or him.

He knew, though, and he whispered, "You are afraid, Aela. Afraid that somehow you will lose me, that I will slip away."

"I'm not afraid. I'm never afraid," she protested.

"Don't lie to me," he pled with her. She could have spit at herself for even trying.

ES

She looked up into his eyes, tears once more coming. "You will die… You will do some harm to yourself, I am terrified you will. The way you gaze into those flames… Your eyes shine when you face death, as if you challenge it, call out to it, welcome it. They become so dark, so frightening, whenever you are content and safe, and it is as if you want to die. Vilkas… I don't want you to die. Don't leave me too."

She was silenced when suddenly lips were pressed to hers, firm and loving. After a moment he pulled back leaving her gaping like a fool. "Perhaps… Perhaps there are times I have welcomed death, but there are times when I fear it. Death comes to all men in their due time, but I will challenge it until the end, and I will embrace it. But there is more to embrace in life than death."

"Like what?" she questioned.

"Like love," he answered. Softly he took her lips again and she melted into his arms. Now, as they lay next to each other, she knew… He would not leave her without.


	15. You Will Never Be Alone

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today.)

You Will Never Be Alone

She'd never liked being new. Being new was frightening. Being new in a place where you had to earn your respect was scarier still. She didn't like the feeling, but she wanted this more than anything else. To be a Companion had been her life's dream. Her mother had been one. She wanted it and she was willing to prove herself. But how could she when so many had so much experience over her? Only Kodlak had accepted her without question. Only Kodlak had encouraged her and taught her. Kodlak had been her father and mentor, and she loved him. Now Kodlak was gone, and she'd never felt more alone…

As they stood gazing into the fire, tears pricked her eyes and silently fell. She wanted to sob, but no one else was outwardly sobbing. They were solemn, respectable, brave… She didn't want to be like that, though. She wanted to fall to her knees and tear at her hair and wish to the divines that her father would come back. She had already departed from one family, and now _this_? She stayed gazing at the pyre even as everyone else left but the Circle. It was her place to go, she knew, but she didn't want to. She _wouldn't_. She wouldn't leave until she could weep as loudly and as much as she wanted.

ES

"You can cry if you want," a voice suddenly said, breaking through her clouded thoughts. She opened her eyes quickly, fearfully, only to find herself gazing up into Farkas' eyes. "It isn't weakness to weep."

"Then why aren't _you_? Why did no one else?" she asked her friend and shield brother as the rest of the Circle walked away.

"Shield Sister, do you wish for me to weep with you?" he asked. Her lips slowly parted.

Blushing she looked down, embarrassed at how weak she must have seemed. He cocked his head, taking in the girl quietly. She had come here frightened, scared, with no defender. But Ria had been nothing if not determined to prove himself. He'd liked her well enough. She had become dear to him. So very dear… It hurt him to see her so sad. She looked up at him once more and nodded quietly.

"Yes…" she answered. "Weep with me."

"Then let us share our pain," he said. All at once, with an anguished scream, she collapsed into his arms sobbing helplessly, terrified, weak, afraid, once more a little girl, once more the frightened child. He held her tightly, his arms strong around her, holding her so tightly she could hardly breathe.

ES

He was her pillar of strength, but at the same time she felt him shaking, his shoulders quivering with silent sobs. It amazed her, how such a strong man could display such a weakness. But perhaps it was the strongest task he had ever completed. He was so kind, so tender. Never had he been cruel to her, even sharing in some of the insults she received, even defending her now that she recalled. "Farkas, I'm so alone," she quietly murmured.

"Never, shield sister, never. You will not be alone. You will _never_ be alone," Farkas vowed to her as the fire burned, casting its eerie glow over the two. "You have friends you can turn to. You are loved by all the Companions. And even if _they_ should all turn their backs on you, I swear to you that I _never_ will. I will die first, because you mean more to me than you will _ever_ know."

Her heart fluttered and for a moment she wished that those words meant so much more. Protector, friend, brother, if only your words meant what I wish. Do they? "Thank you," she breathed.

"You're welcome," he answered. Gently pulling away, his hand lightly stroked her hair. In silence they stood, looking at once another. All at once he seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped. Even in the dark she could see the blush on his cheeks. She smiled, almost giggling. It was so out of place, but she liked it. "I must go meet with the Circle now. Rest Ria, and mourn. I will return as soon as I can to be with you."

Oh gods, if only he knew how those words made her heart race. He pulled away and awkwardly bowed, trying to be gentlemanly. She grinned approvingly at him. He looked back up at her only to feel soft lips pressed against his rough ones. He froze, stomach dancing around like butterflies lived in it. Then the lips were gone, leaving him gaping, and he wanted to feel them again but he couldn't because she was leaving, and he had to meet with the Circle.

Quietly he watched after her. As soon as he could return would never be soon enough, he realized then. Already the seconds felt like eternity. What did this mean, he wondered? Maybe he would ask Vilkas. Watching her draw her fingers through her hair he changed his mind. Maybe not. The mystery was so much better, and it would be all the more glorious when he discovered what it meant for himself. She would never be alone, he vowed to himself, and no one would ever make her feel that way again, or hurt her. He would be there for her until death forced him away from her.


	16. Tears

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Third and last up today. The scene in italics does actually occur in the game. I'm just not sure where.)

Tears

She came to Understone Keep clothed in rags. He scoffed. Just another prisoner, he assumed. Then he recognized her. The Dragonborn. He had often seen her around Markarth. She was in _rags_? He could have laughed. The Dragonborn now a mere captive! Words could not express his pleasure at the sight. So much for the great hero of legend. She'd been captured aiding the Forsworn in their escape. Her sentence was death, her choice was simple. What fool had given her a choice in the _first_ place? Oh yes, _him_. Death or servitude… Needless to say she chose the latter. Of course she would. Who in their right mind would choose death? Death was what she deserved, though. He scoffed at himself. Why had he bothered? Her fate had been eminent, this thorn in the side of the Aldmeri Dominion would be gone, but for some reason or other he'd insisted on the choice. Some reason? Hah! He was fooling no one. He knew the reason he'd offered the ultimatum. She was a pretty little thing, and she would serve as a source of great amusement for him.

Flashback

"_These Stormcloaks are nothing more than an armed mob. This war won't last much longer," the Jarl said to him._

"_At least Ulfric's men are willing to fight for their principles, barbaric as they may be," he replied._

_The Jarl looked coldly at him then turned her back. He scoffed and looked around. His eyes caught the gaze of a young woman watching him curiously. "What is it my friend?" he questioned. Friend. Hah! But he had to keep up appearances at this party._

_She answered, "I need you to cause a scene. Get everyone's attention for a few minutes."_

_He started. He had never seen this girl before yet here she was asking him to __**aid**__ her? Surely she was joking. But curiosity won out and he responded, "This is very irregular. I trust that whatever you're doing doesn't compromise my position in any way?"_

"_I promise. Just a joke I want to play on someone," she answered, persuading him._

"_Hmm. Very well. I'm putting my reputation on the line for you," he said. Where would this go, he wondered?_

_His eyes scanned the party and fell on a man. Razelan was the name, and the inferior had a bad reputation as it was. He approached, victim selected. "How dare you speak of the Thalmor in such a disgusting manner!" he shot furiously._

_Razelan, startled, looked up at him in shock. Quickly he answered, "What? I didn't… hmm? No, listen, you must have misunderstood… I would never openly insult your… That is to say."_

_Smoothly he bit, "Your insults and provocations have gone far enough! I'd kill you where you stand if I wasn't bound by my oath as an officer of the Aldmeri Dominion."_

_He was aware of eyes on him. The stranger was nowhere to be seen. Then Elenwen swept in, saying, "Razelan. And you promised to behave yourself this time. Remove him, he's disturbing the other guests."_

"_I protest! This is an insult to the dignity of my person! This time I'm completely innocent!" Razelan insisted._

_Spotting the young woman returning he stepped in, saying, "Forgive me, Ambassador. I allowed this… fool to provoke me. The fault is mine. There is no need for further disruption on my account."_

_Immediately Razelan leapt in, exclaiming, "Absolutely not! I protest…" He trailed off as the fact he had just been saved hit him. Awkwardly he stammered, "…uh, that is, yes, of course. I still don't understand what just… oh, never mind._

End

Only later had he realized who she was. He'd regretted it ever since. He watched her approach him now, his servant, his slave. He inwardly laughed. She fully deserved it. She'd almost ruined him with that request.

She approached her master at his summons, kneeling before him. She hadn't known who he was when she first came to Markarth, but judging by the elven soldiers flanking him on all sides, he was someone important. It wasn't until later that she remembered him. The Thalmor Commander, the party… She almost killed him then and there. Oh how she despised the Thalmor; but she could wait. She would wait for the perfect time to strike. It had not yet come, but it would. Oh it would.

She had been sentenced to die. She supposed she couldn't blame the Jarl. After all, so many close to him had been murdered by the Forsworn, his father included. Part of her wasn't sure why she bothered to help them in the _first_ place; but the stories they'd told her… She shook her head. On the brink of being sentenced to die, the Thalmor had happened to pass by the throne room. With sick amusement he watched the Jarl passing judgement. He would have gladly wielded the headsman's axe, she knew. He scowled down upon her as if she were nothing, trash, the lowest of all life. He hated her because she was not like him. She would never be like him. Then he gave her an ultimatum, and part of her screamed to spit in his face and be done with it all. Self-preservation had won out, however; but at what cost?

Now she was to serve him as a lowly _slave_? And she saw the way he watched her. For all his disdain he still could not truthfully say to any that he found her unattractive, that she was ugly. On the contrary, she was entirely pleasant to look at. _He_ certainly looked. He looked often and enjoyed every moment. And she was _bound_ to this Thalmor? She was his _play_ thing? Well, she supposed that wasn't entirely accurate, for not once had he so much as trailed a finger along her spine or across her neck. Did it matter if he had? Because the moment opportunity struck, Ondolemar would die.

ES

Dragonborn. Hah! This pathetic creature was the Dragonborn of _legend_? How typical of the Nords to believe such nonsense. She was nothing but a woman, and now less. A maidservant in the Jarl's palace. A maidservant to the very one she despised with her whole heart. With smouldering eyes he watched her scrub the kitchen floor. She was tired, flushed. How wholly unappealing, yet he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of her. He hadn't been able to since the moment she entered into his service. He crossed over to her and she paused, but didn't look up. He kicked the pail of water. She gasped and nearly screamed at him, but that wasn't her place. Not now. She belonged to him. He was her master. He took her arm and pulled her up.

She glared at him with such hatred… It made him shiver. Try it. Try it, he silently provoked. She did nothing, though, but forced herself to look down at the floor and say through gritted teeth, "What is your bidding, master?" She practically spat the last word out venomously. He could have laughed at the wench, but he didn't. Why…? Because she was weeping… She was weeping tears that she herself didn't know she shed. But he knew. Oh how he knew. And he wondered very much. How could _she_ not know? He released her arm and she rubbed it.

Inwardly she seethed. They were alone in the kitchen, no witnesses, no Jarl, no soldiers. Everyone was sleeping but them. He had given her everything but the knife with which to kill him. The fire glowed in the hearth, bathing them in an eerie light. Slowly she looked up at him. He met her gaze emotionlessly and smirked. Oh he could do so many things to her right now. Indescribable atrocities that no one would ever hear of… "Clean up and go to bed," he simply ordered. "For divines sake, it's two in the morning."

She looked at him in disbelief and suspicion. Really? _That_ was his order? Perhaps the more confusing question was, _why_? Why was that his order? Or was she not even good enough to be his play thing? Wordlessly she turned on her heel and marched out. He watched after her. He heard the door close then looked at the floor. Only half done. He sighed in exasperation and knelt, picking up where she'd left off. He didn't hear her open the door to collect something she'd forgotten. She froze, however, on seeing him bent over on the floor and scrubbing. A Thalmor showing _humility_? For a moment she became confused, trying to puzzle out the situation. Shaking her head she gave up. She was tired of shades of grey, tired of being unable to read one who should have been so easy to see through… The Thalmor were evil. That was the only black and white left of her world. He would not take that from her as well.

ES

She entered his room, fresh from her bath. Never did anything frighten her more than this. Never had anything humiliated her as miserably. She remembered the first time it had happened. She'd been terrified. More terrified than she'd ever been… Terrified that he would ravage he, for he was sitting there writing some paperwork, and she… she was naked and vulnerable. It still was a wonder to her how he had hardly reacted. He'd looked up and paused to watch approvingly, a sick smile on his face and a look of pleasure in his eyes. She would have credited it against him except that was _all_ he did, and it was as false as a wax figurine. It was acted, a petty trick meant to bring out just the reaction she'd given. Any other man would have been upon her in a moment. She knew her place in this land. But he'd done nothing.

Still there was fright, but never had he acted before. And when she had slipped into his bed for the first time—the only other place to lie was the stone floor and it had been freezing that night—he hardly made a move. He'd given her a glare and had moved over so as to be as far from the lesser race as possible. Now he didn't bother to even move.

She used to hesitate and begin to shake fearfully whenever returning to dress in his room, for everything she owned was there. Now she let the wrap fall and pool around her feet boldly, no hesitation. She looked over at him. He gave no reaction. He didn't even look up from the scroll he was scribbling in. She didn't understand why it angered her more than anything he'd done this night. In fact, it angered her more than anything had for a long time. So now she wasn't even worth the effort it would take to _peek_? She shook her head coldly at him then turned to the wardrobe to take out a nightgown.

She didn't see him look up at her quietly and cock his head, summing her up. Not with lust, but with curiosity. He turned back to his scroll and finished the entry. Rolling it up he rose and went to the wrap, retrieving it and tossing it into a basket. She felt fear welling in her as she searched for her nightgown. Where was it? Why was it gone? She paled on hearing a dark chuckle and nearly panicked. In fear she spun, covering herself with a gasp. Her bravery was gone and once more she felt like she had that first night. Would now be the time he acted, when her guard was down? With an amused smirk he suddenly thrust something at her. She caught it and looked. She gasped, breath stolen away. A shimmering nightgown made of some fabric she had never seen before. Wait… she'd read of it. It was an elven material, a gown only the hands of the elves could craft. Slowly she looked up at him, suspicious.

"Your regular nightclothes were atrocious," he remarked offhandedly, turning away from her. She watched after him a long moment then dressed. Once more she found herself trying to read him, to analyze his thoughts, the way he worked. Again she failed miserably.

ES

He was fast asleep. She was wide awake. Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. She felt him shift softly next to her and she shivered as he brushed close to her body. The gown was so light it felt as if nothing was there. Now would be the time. Now she could draw a dagger and be done with him. An elven dagger, perhaps? His own, maybe? Silently she moved from the bed. He shifted and she held her breath. Would he awaken…? No, for soon he settled. Quietly she went to his dresser and opened it. There, glimmering in what little light from the moon there was, sat the dagger. She picked it up and caressed it. Looking back at him she slowly approached.

She gazed down upon the Thalmor Commander, eyes cold. Yes. Sleep on, master, sleep on. She raised the dagger above her head, but all at once a sliver of moonlight from some hidden crevice reflected off of him, and she forgot to breathe. Until she heard the dagger clatter to the ground she forgot where she was, that she even _existed_. His pale skin seemed to glow, the moonbeams glistening and glimmering all around him. She'd forgotten, in all her dealings with the Thalmor, how beautiful the elves truly _were_, and the high elves in particular. How could such beauty hide such ugliness?

She found her hand, trembling, lightly land upon his face, trace his jawline, so _perfectly_ crafted it was as if Dibella herself had blessed the High Elves long ago. But beauty was not something to judge by. Beauty meant nothing. She pulled herself away and picked up the dagger. She placed the tip at his neck… but she made no move. She couldn't bring herself to slit his throat… She couldn't bear the thought of watching the moon shine and reflect upon his blood as it dyed his flesh and clothing crimson. This was a life, a living breathing soul. She remembered stories of beauty driving the most cold blooded of murderers to spare a life, to fall in love. She'd scoffed at them all. Beauty was shallow, nothing. It was the inner being that mattered… She wasn't scoffing anymore… But this elf by no means had any redeeming quality except…

Except he had never so much as touched a hair on her head…Except not once had he struck her despite all the fury and anger she prompted in him. Not once had he cursed her or beaten her. Not once had the Commander let any _other_ man attempt such a thing, and there had been times that that fate would have been hers if not for him. He had saved her life. He had shown to her, without trying, that this Civil War wasn't black and white, not any of it. He had taught her that there was no good, there was no bad; and even the wickedest group of all of those in Skyrim knew kindness. And every glance he gave her made her shiver, and every word he spoke infuriated her, but she never willed him to stop speaking. If only he would speak kindly to her, one more time…

ES

"Will you finish it or not?" he suddenly questioned, and she swore her heart stopped. How long had he been awake?! In terror she gasped. Before she could move his hand seized her wrist roughly, squeezing tightly until she cried out in pain and dropped the weapon. The moment she did he let her go. In terror she scrambled away from him as his hands lit up with spells of destruction. She cowered against the wall, watching him in horror and fear. He rose swiftly and she turned her head away and held her breath, waiting for the burning or the electricity to tear through her; waiting for an ice-spike to impale her upon the wall, leaving her to die slowly.

But no such action came. It would never come. He watched her cower there. She was silently weeping; tears she never knew she shed. Tears he had seen every night, every time she had worked so hard she could hardly move, every time she had been so belittled she felt so, _so_ worthless, and every time the soldiers of the palace treated her as nothing but a harlot. Or rather tried to… They never spoke such things to her again, they never so much as tried to lay a hand on her a second time, they never stole from her what they did not have a right to; he was sure of it…She never knew when she cried, but _he_ did. He wondered, what would happen if he mentioned it? "You're weeping," he remarked calmly. She looked up at him, pale and frightened. Her eyes widened in realization, then shock. Swiftly she scrambled to cover the reaction. "Don't bother. I've watched your tears every night since the moment you became a slave to me."

"Liar!" she screamed, accusing him. She couldn't believe him, she wouldn't… but something inside of her told her he had spoken no lie.

"You want your freedom, don't you?" he questioned coldly, and her eyes became longing, hopeful. He shook his head with a sigh. "So be it," he finally instructed, cancelling his spells. "You're free."

ES

She watched him in shocked disbelief, then hurt. "Free?" she asked. Why didn't those words make her feel so happy she could scream? Why didn't she feel like dancing and singing and racing through the doors without a thought? "Free…?" she repeated curiously.

"Yes," he answered, though yes was the last word he wanted to say. He wanted to fall to his hands and knees and beg her in tears not to leave him. But that was not the Thalmor way. They were better than that. She was nothing, worthless, dust in the wind. He turned to the bed, gazing at it as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. She was not worth the effort it would take to plead. She was not worth the tears that he felt pricking his eyes even as he was listing all the things about her he hated. She was not worth the life he felt like ending the moment she left his sight; his own. Never had he believed those words could be so painful. "But know, lady… that I would have been your captive, your prisoner, your slave, if only it meant you did not leave," he thought.

"What?" she breathed, and he froze and cursed himself a thousand times because he had actually said that out _loud_! He froze. What could he say? Could he still deny it? He never turned. He didn't have to. _She_ approached _him_. She gently turned his head to face her and took his lips. In that moment he knew… He had his answer.


	17. Watched

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Here is a reviewer request, and one I'd planned on doing anyway. Hope you enjoy.)

Watched

_Delvin,_

_Master of sneaking, huh? If I ever catch you trying to sneak a peek at me while I'm bathing in the lake again, I'll cut off your most valuable asset._

_Vex_

Well what did she expect? To say she was beautiful would be the biggest understatement that could possibly be made. All right, he'd gone a little overboard that time, he'd admit that; fair enough. Anyone could admit to a mistake. Funny thing was, he didn't classify it as one. He supposed the fact that he was repeating the error now was proof enough of that. He crept over a rock and caught sight of her washing her hair. He couldn't see anything else, in his defense. Not that it would stop her if she spotted him.

He watched her duck her head under then come up humming. She was like a siren. He smirked softly. The smile fell. She was like a siren, and he was the sailor who so desperately wanted her that he would dive into the depths of the sea just to be _near_ to her. He was the sailor who would swim out to her even though he knew, as she did, that it would mean his life. After all, what chance did a mortal man have with a creature in the likeness of s nymph? What chance did _he_ have with _her_?

She was shallow and cold, he knew that much about her. There was nothing outwardly appealing about him in any way shape or form. He had even been mistaken for old before. He wasn't young, but he wasn't an old man _either_. Didn't matter anyway. She wouldn't give him the time of day. No… This was the closest he could ever come, the only time he could ever let his thoughts focus on her and just watch. If he watched her in the Ragged Flaggon or the Guild, the others would see. They would see and know. They would taunt him, or be appalled at his audacity. And she would hate him even more because his name wouldn't be the only one dragged through the dirt. It wasn't his fault that the only moments he had to watch her were when she was like _this_. He would have liked to watch her elsewhere without fear. But he couldn't.

ES

She felt eyes watching her and frowned. She looked sharply around, scouring the shadows for any sign of life. Her weapons were on the beach. She grimaced in distaste. She would have to race to get to them before whoever watched her beat her to it. Wait… watched? Her eyes narrowed and lit up furiously. Delvin! It had to be. She searched even harder, and then she spotted him. He was behind a rock peering out, probably imagining what she looked like below the neck. She scoffed. Oh he would pay. She just had to get to the beach without arousing his suspicion. In her defense, she'd warned him about this. The man had one thing on the brain, just like all the rest of them. Someone eventually would have had to have been made an example of.

But wait… She cocked her head, squinting. He looked as if his mind were elsewhere. Where else would it be, though? He was lost in thought. He _had_ the ability to think? In that moment she felt furious. Where on Earth would his mind be if not on _her_? What right did he have to think about anything else _but_ her!? Oh he would pay doubly now. Slowly she went towards the beach. A thought flitted to her mind that made her flinch. Had that harlot Haelga gotten her clutches into him? Oh if she had, the woman would rue the day. She couldn't compete with that whore's Dibella loving antics. Wait… Since when was she trying to compete? Since when did she feel jealous? Her eyes lit up in realization. She nearly screamed in horror. No, just _no_! The whole idea was stupid and plain, well, _wrong_. That was it. Delvin wasn't leaving this beach alive.

ES

He watched her coming towards shore and hid behind the rock, sighing as he slipped down it to sit. He buried his head in his knees. He would give her the privacy. Contrary to popular belief, he _did_ value respect. In himself as well as others. Honor amongst thieves and all that. He leaned his head back against the cold rock. There were times he wished he could shut his eyes and her image would be gone; everything would be gone. There were times he wished he would never wake up when he was caught in a dream that centered on her and him and some semblance of a future together. No one would expect him to actually be one for settling down. He'd never been before, not even with Vex. Not for the longest time… Things changed, though, and this infatuation had turned at some point in time to something he wasn't ready to accept.

"You should have taken the message seriously," a voice said icily from above him. He gasped, eyes flying open. There they fell upon _her_.

"Vex!" he exclaimed in horror, leaping to his feet. She had him pinned against the rock with a dagger at his throat in seconds. He cursed himself for not bringing a weapon; or not getting out of there sooner. He should have _known_ something was wrong! "'Ello love," he awkwardly greeted.

"Delvin, what did the letter say?" she asked him as if she were talking to a child.

He swallowed dryly. "You would cut off my most valuable asset," he offered innocently.

"If…" she pressed.

"If you caught me tryin' to sneak a peek at you bathing in the lake again," he helplessly answered. He was trapped like a dog now. No, like a sailor caught by a siren.

"Exactly," she replied, pushing the knife against his groin area. He flinched and gave a slightly pained moan as the tip dug in just above her target. He didn't cry out, though. Just as the sailor's never cried out, he wouldn't.

ES

"Come on now love, can't we talk it out?" he asked hopelessly.

"Hah! Sorry, all out of mercy," she replied.

He cringed as the blade drew blood, hands automatically going to cover the wound; and in the process covering hers. She paused, hesitating and slightly flushing, though she cursed herself for it. She had pondered killing him, but not for long. After all, they were 'friends,' if you could call it that. Maybe she wouldn't go any deeper with the blade. "You said you'd cut off my most valuable asset. It ain't that, Vex."

"Oh yeah? Then what is?" she challenged, eyes narrowing icily. The weasel was trying to worm out of it. Unlikely.

"My heart," he replied, though he knew full well how pathetically sappy that sounded. She hated sappy, he hated sappy, but hey, what did he have to lose?

She looked up at him in shock. She hadn't just heard that from Delvin, _had_ she? Her eyes were wide. "What?" she asked after a long moment.

He shrugged. He had nowhere to go from there. He was out of words. He'd been caught, he would pay her price whether he liked it or not. "I'm not Vald, Vex. I act like it, sound like it, but I'm not Vald; and when I say I love you, I mean it."

"You've never said I love you in your life!" she sharply shot.

"I'm sayin' it now, love," he answered. "I love you… Siren, I don't want you for your body, I don't want you for your connections, your looks, or any of that there stuff. None of it's that important to me these days _anyway_. I love you. I watch you bathe because it's the only time I _can_. If I was ever caught doing it in the guild… I couldn't drag your name through the dirt like that, not along with mine, and that's exactly what would happen if the others ever… I'm done now," he finished, realizing he'd said far too much at this point.

But she just looked at him and never moved. And finally she pulled the dagger from him and tucked it away. He looked surprised, shocked, and after a moment she suddenly kissed the corner of his mouth softly, curiously. She pulled away and harrumphed. She nodded in approval then turned and walked away. He followed like a kicked puppy, but she let him come up beside her, and when he did she simply directed, "Put your arm around me." He looked at her shocked. She wasn't looking back at him. He hesitated a moment but soon obliged, and his heart leapt when she leaned against him with a contented sigh, letting him guide her back to the Guild.


	18. Hourglass

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today.)

Hourglass

She remembered when she'd first come to the college. She remembered it very well. She was young, very young, and she had had next to no skill. But she'd wanted to learn. Oh how she'd wanted to learn. She'd wanted to cross the bridge, but the one posted there—at that time it had been Urag, she believed—had given her a task she couldn't hope to complete. She didn't have that ability yet. She showed him what she could do, her best spell, but he hadn't been impressed. The other one watching, however, _had_ been. Savos had taken note of her, and he saw the potential. He had commanded the orc to let her come.

She had studied extensively under his personal command. He would let no other teacher near her. He had claimed her as his and he would keep it that way. And she learned… Oh how she learned. And magic wasn't the only thing. She admired him so much, and he told her such stories… Including Labyrinthian. He'd never told anyone else about it. None but her… And he'd wept as he spoke of the event, and she listened and held him close to her and she knew… He had become more than her teacher. So, so much more. He had become her lover…

He had become her lover and it was so taboo, so wrong—Arch-mage and student?—but she didn't care. Time passed and she learned his skills, learned everything, and as she went from student to teacher to his second in command—for she had wanted to remain here with _him_—he began grooming her for something. She wasn't sure what. She couldn't understand. What was he preparing her for? Then she knew. She knew because she once went to his room uninvited, and he was there gazing at an hourglass.

ES

She had been curious, but something told her not even _she_ was allowed inside at that point. She tried to slip away, but he spoke and asked her, "Mirabelle, do you know what the hourglass symbolizes?"

She froze and blushed deeply. Coming out of hiding she replied, "It symbolizes time."

"And so much more," Savos added. He looked back at her and he seemed so much older, so weak, so tired… Her heart dropped and she dreaded to know where this was going.

"What's going on?" she asked fearfully, approaching him.

He looked back at the hourglass as she wrapped her arms beneath his own and placed her hands on his shoulders, leaning into him. He shivered and she smirked. He shivered every time she so much as brushed passed him. "No doubt you've wondered what I am grooming you for," he remarked.

"Yes," she admitted. He absently kissed the back of her hand, still on his shoulder, then turned and wrapped his arms softly around her, nuzzling her forehead gently. She grinned and felt so happy and so protected, like nothing bad would ever happen to her, to them.

"You were the best student in this college. You are the most skilled mage here," he said.

"Next to you, Tolfdir, and Urag," she corrected. He smirked softly and gently kissed her.

"All men die, my pet," he whispered to her, and all at once cold dread gripped her unlike any she'd ever felt before, and in horror she looked up at him. "All men die, and when I am gone you will take my place as Arch-Mage."

"_Me_?" she asked in shock, suddenly feeling so elated, so proud, yet at the same time so distressed, for the word 'die' was still ringing in her mind. He nodded, softly smiling. Her glow faded, however, and worriedly she said, "Savos, why are you speaking of death?"

"Look at the hourglass," he replied. She did so, moving around him to stand in front. It was almost empty, she noted. Then his arms wrapped around her wistfully. Then her eyes lit up. Then she became pale.

"No…" she breathed, catching on.

"That hourglass symbolizes my life, and what is left of it," he stated simply. She was shaking. Suddenly she was sobbing and he was holding her so, so tightly. She fell against his chest weeping and begging him to tell her this was all a lie or a dream. He could only hold her closer still and shake his head. No, this wasn't a dream, this wasn't a lie. His life would end, very soon. He gave her a medallion and told her that when the time came, she would know what to do with it, and she sensed it had to do with the Dragonborn in their halls. All through this one name burned in her mind. Ancano…

ES

He had been right… Savos had been right… She lay against the pillar, gravely injured. The Dragonborn stood there, so concerned. "I'm fine, find the Arch-Mage," she ordered, though why she bothered she didn't know. She knew what had happened to him. The hourglass was right… Her lover had thrust her behind the pillar protectively, and the blast had hit him so, so hard, and he'd… he'd just disappeared. She knew the moment he threw her into safety that he was gone. He was dead, and her reason for living was gone _with_ him.

She rose up slowly. Ancano was unaware. She couldn't get to him, she knew, but she had to get the students and others out. And perhaps, if Julianos granted her one respite, she would die along with her friend, her teacher, her beloved… Swiftly she moved to help the others, and she stayed behind, and she was aware only of the comforting embrace of death as it reached out for her, and of _his_ embrace as she once more joined him; and the last grain dropped from her own glass.

(A/N: Quest referenced: Unsure of name but it's the last one in the Mages College.)


	19. Brute

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Third up today. I had trouble with this one because I absolutely _hated_ this guy when I saw him. I still kin of do. During the Butcher quest, though, I had no clue what to do. I wandered around the main area of Windhelm and noticed that every single night these two were there, without fail, and he was just watching her. Hence the birth of this idea because, let's be honest, even men like him feel love, though all other emotions may be misguided.)

Brute

He watched her warming herself by the fire. Every night he watched her. He'd once paraded around the Grey Quarter drunkenly insulting the elves, whom he so despised. Not anymore, though. Now he stood and watched her there, curious. He had a mug in his hand, but never more than one, and usually he never got halfway through _that_. She wasn't all that pretty, but there was a moth-like beauty about her, delicate, pale, and subdued. She'd begun to take notice of him, often glancing up. At first it was wary. She was afraid of him. Why shouldn't she be? He certainly wasn't the gentlest person around, and the way he treated the elves… He cringed slightly at the thought, but why feel guilt? Elves were nothing.

He wondered what she thought when she looked up at him so guardedly. He supposed at first she'd been waiting for him to suddenly pounce on her and rob her of the last treasure she had left, then leave her battered and broken in some alley. He didn't move, though, just watched as if he was part of the statue he stood in front of all the time. Her glances became more curious than guarded or frightened. Then her gazes became ponderous.

She approached him once, just now in fact, and asked, "Spare a coin?"

Her voice was entirely unappealing. It sounded as if it belonged to an old woman, but Silda didn't look old, and he knew she was younger than him, probably. She was world weary and tired, though. Her life had been nothing but hardship. He supposed that could age one before their time. A pity, really. Such a waste. He grunted in disapproval and flicked one into her hands. "Walk away wench," he ordered.

"Bless your heart," she replied. He noticed she never said kind heart. She was right not to. He was far from kind. In fact, he was belligerent, ignorant, boorish, brutal, and any amount of other such things; but he tolerated her presence, and in fact welcomed it. The rare times she didn't show up he felt… he didn't know. Alone, empty? He wasn't really sure and he wasn't sure he wanted to figure it out. He would stay ignorant, thank you very much.

ES

The news was everywhere; the butcher was prowling the streets killing off young women for some reason or other. He couldn't really care less. Then again, he refused to think about the possibilities of what this butcher had done to them before killing them. _If_ he had done anything else, that is. He couldn't care less. So why was he appearing in front of the statue so much earlier? Why was he beginning to follow Silda around when it began to get late and dark? She wasn't pretty, she wasn't as young as the other women who had died, so no butcher would take her, right? No, the butcher wouldn't get her. He knew this because he would die before he let the man harm her. This butcher would die if he tried anything.

"You're following one who is in no danger, Rolff," she suddenly said, and he froze. She paused and looked back at him. He blinked then grunted and continued following her, coming up next to her.

"I'll follow who I want," he replied.

"Funny. You never struck me as a vigilant," she remarked. He harrumphed.

There was silence. After a moment he brought out a loaf of bread and handed it to her. She was surprised but took it and began to eat. After a moment he said, "You shouldn't be out here."

"Where can I go?" she asked.

"I have a room in the inn. I'm never in there at night anyway," he replied. "It's fair game for you."

She was trying to tell if it was a proposition. He'd offered her his bed, but at the same time she knew he was telling the truth when he said he never slept in it at night. She finally decided it wasn't and nodded. "Thank you. If only you acted this way around the elves now." He scoffed. She harrumphed and walked away. She paused by the stairs in the cemetery, though, and looked back. After a moment she pursed her lips and returned to him, gently pecking his lips. He started. "Be careful," she warned. With that she was gone, and he was left gaping like a fool in the graveyard.

ES

He'd never been more terrified than when he heard a scream from the graveyard the next night. He didn't believed he'd run so fast in his life. He reached the railing and looked down, afraid of what he'd see. The one night he'd been unable to find her and there was a scream. He saw her, though, and he nearly fell to his knees with a gasp of relief. She was still alive, but she was shaking and terrified, gazing at the body of that Suzanna girl. He raced down the steps to her and pulled her away from it.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Th-the butcher… I heard her scream and ran to find her, but it was too late. The butcher ran by me, tried to stab me, but I pulled away and he didn't stop," she replied.

"Easy, easy," he said, feeling she was ready to faint. She suddenly seemed to recover and stood up straighter as the guards came running.

ES

"You were afraid for me," she remarked to him from the fire as he watched her like a hawk.

"When someone hears a scream they run towards it. I'm not a psychopath," he replied.

"I've never had anyone fear for me," she murmured. "It's strange."

He harrumphed and sipped from the mug. "Get used to it," he replied.

"You're not going _anywhere_, are you?" she asked, smirking into the fire.

"Unlikely," he answered.

"Good," she said. "It would be lonely here. I still wish you would grow up, though."

"Grow up?" he asked, offended. He was a full grown man!

"Elves," she simply said, and he started, catching on. He scowled and thought about blowing up at her, but to his surprise he didn't feel the need.

"Sue me," he replied.

"At least you didn't outright refuse," she said. He shot her an annoyed look. Did she have to twist everything? Since when was she an optimist? He supposed, though, it was new to her. She'd never had much to be optimistic about. Windhelm was a depressing place. Heck, _Skyrim_ was a depressing place these days.

"Come inside," he offered. "I'll get you something to eat."

"You don't have to," she answered, looking up at him.

"About time I did a good deed," he answered, going up to her. She cocked her head curiously then stood on tiptoes and pecked his lips.

"You should try it more often. You'd be more likeable," she answered. He frowned. Couldn't she go one conversation without insulting him? She giggled and walked by. Like a puppy he followed, and kicked himself for it the whole way.

(A/N: Quest Referenced: Blood on Ice.)


	20. Darkness

**Fate's Games**

Darkness

She was a creature of darkness, most of her life spent wrapped in its sweet embrace. It wasn't that she was evil, she just… preferred the absence of light; both of the sun and of the world. Night stalker, vampire… she was drawn to darkness, so really it had been inevitable. Perhaps that was why she'd fought it so hard. Why she _still_ fought it. He was dark. Oh, _how_ he was dark. His soul was black as the night, his heart blacker still, and his whole being and aura as cold as the Void which he so revered.

She hadn't trusted him, not for a _moment_. Not from the start. She'd despised his presence, his very being. What _was_ this man? Why did he so differ from anything she'd ever sensed in her _life_? She'd wanted to kill him. She'd wanted him to die slowly and painfully so that never more would she have to hear his voice, hear his laughter, watch as he danced, literally danced, through his enemies using any weapon he deemed worthy of being in his hand. Duel wield, single handed, staffs, bows, pickaxes, axes, spells, bare hands… they were all a part of him. Yes she wanted him to die slowly, and for once, just _once_, she would see fear and pain in his eyes; and oh how she knew there was pain of a different sort inside of him.

She knew he sensed her hatred. She knew he didn't care and in fact laughed at it, eyes dancing with merriment on realizing it. He'd made it a point to get under her skin every chance he got, and he wanted her to die as much as she wished it on _him_. He'd been jealous of her at first. Now he knew what she was, he sensed the darkness inside of her that she so fought. He tried to break her, to turn her so he would have his opportunity to slaughter her… And it was working. So she'd thought.

She feasted on animals, mostly, sometimes humans but not often. In fact, if it could be avoided she stayed away from the humans. They weren't the taste she liked. Until now. Now… now she wanted it badly. She wanted to sink her teeth into him, just to see what it would be like. Was he as different from other mortals inside as he was _outside_? Now… now death and hatred weren't what she felt. Not by a long shot.

ES

He was looking down with eyes closed, she noted, smiling and chuckling darkly at something she'd probably said without knowing it. He opened his amber irises, glittering with life, blazing, and glanced at her. She felt her heart skip a beat, her breath catch in her throat. She felt her body shiver in desire and anticipation. Oh gods, when had she begun to feel this reaction? He drew his ebony dagger and caressed it, lightly bringing it to his lips and kissing it. Oh how she wished she was in the blade's place.

"She is distracted, yes she is. Brave Serana, poor Serana, your mind is not on the task, no it isn't, not at all" he cooed.

"No," she confirmed almost childlike.

So merry, so mad, and you wouldn't guess that beneath all his laughter and jokes and light hearted merriment lay such a dark and evil and wily and deeply disturbed man. And he _was_ insane, without any doubt, but she saw him in moments of lucidity, small glimpses, and she knew that there was far more to him than he pretended. His words were wise, his insight invaluable to the one he followed so devotedly, the Listener she now followed as well.

The eyes were glittering again, the wicked aura playing out in his bodies movements. He was pacing slowly, surely, dagger lightly dragging along her clothes and skin as he circled. She felt weak in his presence, overpowered, consumed, _helpless_. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn that for a moment the fool smirked; that he knew _exactly_ what was going through her mind.

ES

All at once he was there, body close against hers. He was drawing his dagger lightly across her cheek. "Oh gods," she moaned tightly, body shivering uncontrollably. "Stop," she pled.

"Why?" he asked, breath tickling her ear. Lightly, leisurely, he dropped a kiss upon her eyes, her cheeks, the corner of her mouth, her neck. Oh immortals, she felt like melting. "Ooh, Serana, does _Cicero_ make you all tingly inside?" he asked in a hiss.

She broke then, giving into her calling. With a hiss of her own she growled lowly and breathed in a humid whisper, her lips upon his chin, "Give me your neck, jester. Let me taste of you, and you will become mine for all eternity." He paused and she felt him tremble, so quick that for a moment she thought it was her imagination. The Fool of Hearts giggled madly then pulled away, eyes sparkling, eyes predatory. Without a word he turned and walked away, humming the sounds that were more experimentation with noise than anything else.

She looked down and let out a relieved sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She used to wish he were dead. She used to wish she could watch him die a slow painful death. She once would have given up anything to ensure she never heard his laughter or his humming or his voice ever again. She would have betrayed him in a heartbeat, and he would have done the same to _her_… Not anymore… Oh, not anymore…

ES

The Dragonborn called to them to hurry up. "Sorry Listener. Faithful Cicero will move faster next time," the jester replied.

"As will I, jester, as will I," Serana breathed into the back of his neck. She felt him catch his breath and inwardly smirked. "You are not the only one who can play this game," she murmured, nipping and breaking the skin a little. She tasted the liquid and chuckled. As unique as the man himself, just as she'd thought. She moved in front of the stunned jester as the Dragonborn watched in shock and confusion.

(A/N: I went there.)


	21. My Speaker, My Silencer, My Listener

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today.)

My Speaker, My Silencer, My Listener

"You stand now upon the precipice of the Void. I am reminded of another Listener, I knew once. Long ago… so long ago," the spirit breathed into the back of her neck, and they and they alone knew what he meant.

"Master, I stand before you still. Speaker, still you know and possess me. Minion, time has not changed me so much," she replied softly.

ES

The first time he'd come to her she had been fast asleep upon a bed of straw. So still, so delicate, so beautiful, that one would almost think she was a corpse… The moonlight shone off of her skin and that image was forever burned into his mind. She'd sense a presence and opened her eyes in confusion. Eyes so pale they rivalled the moon and stars. When she'd seen him she hadn't moved, had hardly even breathed. Her hand, though, had slowly begun to twist a dagger, glittering and deadly.

"You sleep rather soundly for a murderer. That's good. You'll need a clear conscience for what I am about to propose." She said nothing in return, simply blinked and waited for him to continue. He was amused. "I am Lucien Lachance, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood. And you… you are a killer. A taker of life. A harvester of souls. Your work, your deathcraft, pleases the Night Mother. And so, I come to you with an offering. An opportunity… To join our rather unique family."

Once more she said nothing, her expression unreadable. He thought a moment that he saw anger, guilt, but it could just as easily have been a trick of the light. She was waiting, and he was feeling more and more intrigued. He shivered as she cocked her head slightly and he caught a wave of perfume, a light and exotic scent. Deathbell with a hint of Nightshade… How fitting. "Listen carefully. On the Green Road to the north of Bravil lies the Inn of Ill Omen. There you will find a man named Rufio. Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. Do this, and the next time you sleep in a location I deem secure, I will reveal myself once more, bearing the love of your new family."

Once more she remained quiet, but she allowed her eyes to harden. Most would have thought she was hardening her heart, resolved to carry out his bidding. No… They hardened because she wanted to refuse, to tell him she was no murderer. For a moment he feared she would pounce with an unearthly cry, that of some unobtainable and otherworldly creature, and tear him to pieces. She didn't move, though. "Now please, accept this token from the Dark Brotherhood. It is a virgin blade and thirsts for blood. May it serve your endeavors well. Now, I bid you farewell. I do hope we'll meet again soon."

There were those who would wonder why he give her such a prize, such a blade, when she had said nothing to either confirm or deny that she would go through with it; but something about her called out to him like a forbidden fruit, and who was he to ignore such a sensation? It was foreign, new, and he found he liked it very much, yet at the same time feared it. "Your path is clear," he said to her. "Send Rufio to his death, and the Dark Brotherhood will embrace you as family.

ES

She didn't disappoint. To be honest, he hadn't known if she would go through with it or not, yet here he was standing before her once more and gazing into her pale eyes and pale skin. Her hands were behind her back as boldly she faced him, proud and cold, eyes like icicles. She wasn't happy with him, with what she'd done, but still she'd gone through with it. "So, the deed is done. How do I know this? You will find that the Dark Brotherhood knows a great _many_ things. For you are now part of the family." Yet again she said nothing, but oh how he longed to hear her voice, and he didn't know why. "The slaying of Rufio was the signing of a covenant, the manner of execution your signature, Rufio's blood, the ink."

He didn't know why such disappointment fell upon his heart when she still refused to speak, but he continued, "As a Speaker of the Black Hand, I directly oversee a group of family members. You will join that group and fulfil any contracts given. You must now go to the city of Cheydinhal, to the abandoned house near the Eastern Wall. Enter the basement and attempt to open the Black Door. You will be asked a question. Answer thusly." She shivered at his whispered words and he softly smiled. "'Sanguine, my brother.' You will gain entrance to the sanctuary. Once inside, speak with Ocheeva."

To this day what happened next remained burned into his mind, and still he shivered at the memory. "We must now take our leave of each other, you and I, for there is much work to be done," he declared. "I'll be following… your progress. Welcome to the family." She had gazed up at him, head tilted slightly, curiously, then all at once she knelt before him, dress pooling around her feet, and took his hands in hers. She bowed her head modestly, submissively, and softly kissed them with her cold, cold red lips. He swore his heart skipped a beat, then pounded all the harder. He shivered.

Her eyes turned up to him once more and she rose. He realized his lips were still parted in awe. Quickly he closed them and glanced away, continuing, "You are now one with the Dark Brotherhood. Visit Ocheeva at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary and your new life will begin."

ES

It was some time before he saw her again. She entered his hideaway at his summons, appearing like some apparition. He himself had very nearly thought that a ghost was just what she _was_. "I have been waiting for you assassin. We have not spoken in some time, but I am well aware of your accomplishments within the Dark Brotherhood. That is why I have sent for you. I'm afraid there is a… situation. The time has come to test both your skill and your loyalty to Sithis. The Black Hand has learned that the Dark Brotherhood has been infiltrated. By whom, and for what purpose, we do not yet know. What we _do_ know is that there is some link between the traitor and the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. The traitor has tainted that place beyond repair. It was learned that the traitor has been active for quite some time. Since before you joined the Brotherhood. That absolves you of any suspicion."

It was then that she spoke. Spoke for the first time he had ever heard, and her voice… Her voice sent shivers up and down his spine. "I will serve you to time immemorial," she declared. Oh gods, he felt as if he were in another world.

"And that, dear child, is why the Black Hand has chosen you to perform the ancient rite known as Purification. Everyone inside the sanctuary must die," he stated.

He heard her catch her breath, her eyes filling with fear and sadness, and oh immortals, her tears… The tears glittering in her eyes made him want to draw her close and swear to her that everything would be all right. But it wouldn't… Somehow he knew it would never be all right again. But he never wanted to see another look of anguish in her eyes or expression. He didn't want to continue, he truly didn't, but it must be made known to her. "You must break one of the tenets you have sworn to uphold. I know this is an unexpected turn of events, but drastic measures must be taken. Ocheeva, Vincente Valtieri, Antoinetta Marie, Gogron gro-Bolmog, Telaendril, M'raaj Dar, and Teinaava. All of these family members must die…"

He'd never thought any words could cut so deeply, hurt so badly, as those had… And her… Her misery made it all the more painful; so betrayed, so hurt, so miserable, and he wished in that moment that he could die, for if she came to hate him… He closed his eyes tightly at the thought, and he knew. If she had attacked him then, he would not have fought back, if she had killed him there it would have been a blessing, for if she let him live her hatred would end him so much more painfully than anything he could imagine.

"From this point forward you are no longer bound by the five tenets. Sithis will forgive any murder, any theft, so long as you serve the Black Hand. When the rite of Purification has been completed, return to me here at Fort Farragut, and we will discuss your future," he said; and for a moment there was hatred. For a moment he knew she wanted to kill him, but then understanding came to her eyes and she bowed her head low. Oh to turn his back so he would no longer have to watch… "Now take these special gifts. They will help you greatly. One is a poisoned apple, the other a unique scroll of summoning. Good luck… Silencer."

She looked up at him slowly, lips parted in awe, tears in her eyes. He cringed, and this time it was _he_ who looked down. She knelt before him and answered, "Thank you, Speaker."

"Make haste. The sanctuary must be purified if this treachery is to be undone," he quickly ordered, wanting her gone. She rose and left without a word.

ES

She returned to him in tears, he remembered, anguish so set upon her that she never even looked up. He watched silently. Finally he said, "The ritual of purification is complete. Well done. Sithis has been appeased and the time has come to acknowledge and reward your unwavering loyalty."

Then the last thing he expected happened. She burst into tears and fled into his arms. Shocked, he'd held her tightly as she sobbed mournfully into his chest, shaking her head in denial. He didn't know what to do, what to say. He swallowed and felt tears burning his own eyes. When was the last time he'd wept? He forced them back and continued, "The Black Hand is most pleased with your progress. You have been invited to share in secrets that few within the Dark Brotherhood even know _exist_. Your life in the sanctuary is over. Those contracts are behind you. Now, you will serve the Black Hand. You will serve _me_." She shivered in his embrace. "From this moment forward you will walk the shadows as my Silencer. You will receive contracts only from me. Your new life has begun."

"But… but what must I do now?" she questioned fearfully, and he felt her fear and confusion. Everything torn from her in a single night, all she'd come to know and love gone; and she was vulnerable. So, so _vulnerable_.

"No longer will you receive your orders directly. Instead, you will visit secret dead drops. Your next contract can be found at the dead drop on Hero Hill, southeast of here. A hollow in the moss covered rock contains all you need to know," he told her gently. "When you leave here, we will not speak again unless I deem it necessary. Ah yes, there is one last thing. I have for you a very special gift. Waiting just outside is a magnificent steed named, Shaodowmere. She has served me well. I present her now to you, as a token of my trust… and love…"

ES

She looked up at him slowly, eyes meeting his, lips parted ever so slightly; and how he wanted to place his own upon them and never let her go. He didn't have to. She was the one who advanced. Before he could ready himself her lips were against his softly, gently, lovingly… She stole his breath away, and he softly cupped her cheek and kissed her desperately back. Sithis only knew for how long he'd wanted to feel her lips upon his, her cold skin against his own flesh. After a moment she pulled away and said, "Must you be so wan and cold, fond master?"

"Cold?" he wondered, hardly in a whisper as he still fought to catch his breath.

"Am I truly never to speak to you again?" she asked softly, a tear trickling down her cheek. Suddenly afraid he took her face softly and gently brushed it away. He never wanted to see her tears _again_.

Nuzzling her softly, he breathed, "My Silencer…"

"My Speaker," she answered, and he was shivering now, unable to stop as they nestled their foreheads.

He closed his eyes tightly. No more promises, no more explanations, please no. But it was a battle he wouldn't win. "You will see me again," he vowed to her. She sobbed and kissed him once more. As they gently parted he breathed, "Now go, and may Sithis guide you in this new stage of your life's dark journey. Go now, child of Sithis. Walk in the shadow of the Void."

ES

He felt her move next to him as she slept, every breath she took full. Proof of life in a world filled with death and darkness. He rose quietly onto an arm and gazed down at her sleeping form, her black hair cascading over the pillows. Softly he caressed her cheek then bent, sealing her lips with a kiss. He nuzzled her so adoringly… He'd long forgotten he could feel such things as this. Gods, to never have to leave this embrace; to never let her out of his sight _again_. If only the world would fade away and die around them so nothing would ever interfere with this moment.

She sighed softly in sleep and breathed in as she began to wake up. Her eyes flickered open and met his. She grinned softly, lovingly, and reached up, cupping his cheek. He took her hand and kissed her palm. Softly, lazily, he let his lips find their way to her stomach and softly drop a kiss, then upon her chest, her neck. She giggled, a sound like a goddess, and beamed, wrapping her arms around his neck and taking his lips. He rose from her reluctantly and wrapped himself swiftly. They had work to do now.

ES

"No. _No_! I thought I could _get_ here in time, thought I could _stop_ you! By Sithis, what have you done? What madness has claimed you? You have betrayed me. You have betrayed the Dark Brotherhood! _Why_?!" he demanded of her, and his tone held such hurt, such confusion, such anger and hatred that she felt like dying.

"What do you mean?" she breathed fearfully, backing away from him as he advanced like a predator. "Minion, how have I betrayed you?!" she begged. He raised his hand as if to strike her. She gasped and turned away, waiting for the blow. It never came. He couldn't bring himself to hit her, even now.

She sank down against the wall of a building and curled against it. Voice quaking in fury and hatred he declared, "I am here to end your miserable life. To…" He trailed off, however, and looked down at her, seeming to catch up with his emotions. He turned his head curiously, reading her, summing her up, just as he had so often before. In that moment of silence she'd wanted burst into tears and beg his forgiveness, though for what she was unsure as of yet. It seemed forever until he spoke again, saying. "But… I can see the confusion in your eyes. You… you have no idea what I'm _talking_ about, do you?"

He saw that she was terrified, gazing at him in hurt and fear as she cowered against the wall, and for a dreadful moment he feared she would say nothing in response. He feared she would burst into tears or flee. But she didn't. "No," she simply breathed in response.

"Your first dead drop contract. You carried that out, killed Celedaen. After that you eliminated the Draconis family, as ordered. Then, betrayal. Your dead drops went unvisited, your targets ignored. Instead you have been systematically killing off all the members of the Black Hand. J'Ghaasta, Shaleez, Alval Uvani, Havilstein Hoar-Blood. Speakers and Silencers all. And Ungolim. The Listener _himself_!"

She suddenly appeared sick. "Oh gods!" she exclaimed, covering her mouth and sobbing, shaking her head in denial. What had she done? What had she done? He watched silently, for a long moment saying nothing, and in that pause she wished he had struck her dead, but no… He knelt down and took her arms, pulling her to her feet and placing his forehead against hers. She sensed his guilt and leaned into his neck, nuzzling him. Then he said the words that would continue to haunt her darkest nightmares for the rest of eternity…

ES

"The surviving members of the Black Hand know that you're innocent, know you were only following orders. They believe _I_ am the traitor," he admitted.

She looked up at him, worry overtaking her features. "No…" she breathed. He looked distant, sad. "Lucien," she breathed, cupping his cheek. He turned to her curiously.

Gently he kissed her palm, her forehead, and breathed, "Forgive me."

"I am yours to command, Speaker," she replied, and his heart leapt within him.

"The traitor somehow switched your orders and has been sending you to the wrong dead drops! You and I have been deceived. We must find out who is behind this betrayal. We haven't much time… I am hunted day and night by the Black Hand. They want me dead." She looked down, feeling her heart twisting. This couldn't be happening… "Here is what you must do. Go now to your next dead drop. Lie in wait and confront whomever drops off the false contract. Uncover the true traitor's identity and then come see me. I'll be in hiding. Fort Farragut is no longer secure. It's under watch by the Black Hand. I'll wait for you at Applewatch, the farm where you killed the old Draconis woman. It should be empty and safe. Now go! And may Sithis help us all."

It was then he walked passed her. She looked down at the ground, tightly closing her eyes and willing back tears. She would never see him again… If he left her sight, she would never see him again. She sobbed, covering her mouth, then turned and raced after him. He looked back, curious, and all at once she was in his arms kissing him so, so passionately… Kissing him as if it would be the last kiss they ever shared.

Finally they drew apart. "My Speaker, do not leave me," she pled.

He closed his eyes tightly as a tear fell from his eyes. Breathing in he looked up at her and answered, "If only I could make that promise." She sobbed, shaking her head in denial. He kissed her once more then pulled away, vanishing before her eyes as she fell to her knees and sobbed for all she knew, she sensed, she was going to lose.

ES

She stood overlooking Skyrim, tears in her eyes. His ghostly arms were wrapped around her, his skin once so warm now so, so cold… He kissed the back of her neck softly and she leaned into it. "Do not leave me," she pled as she had once long ago.

"We are bonded now, you and I, joined by the powers of the Void," he answered. "I will _never_ leave you again." She sobbed and turned, kissing his lips, but as the twilight became dusk, his image faded away, and once again she was left cold and empty.

"Until I summon you once more," she whispered as a goodbye.


	22. Victim Of Fate

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Third up today.)

Victim Of Fate

He hadn't known… He hadn't known what he'd done until he was washing the blood from his hands and arms. It had become so dark, so black, and then he was here and wondering why the water was red. Then the memory came back and he went white. His mouth opened but no scream came out, and soon it closed. Why should he scream for one who didn't deserve to live? Mommy, do you know what I did with her? Mommy, why won't you answer me? Fine, _be_ that way! I'll find out myself.

ES

_Damn it, mother! Why did it have to be this way? Maria was so beautiful. She was perfect in so many ways. Why couldn't she handle the truth? Why couldn't she realize her "family" didn't really love her? She was a murderer, like the rest of us. Paid to kill in the name of Sithis. I really thought we could be together. Make a real family, with real love. But she told me she could never accept your place in my life. So now she's gone. She didn't deserve to live after the horrible things she said about you. I never should have told her, I know. I'm so sorry. It will never happen again, and the others will never find her, don't worry. There's nothing left of her to find._

ES

He broke down sobbing, falling to his knees and holding his head in his hands. Oh the voices, the voices! They were screaming at him, telling him to erase any sign of her. They were screaming and he was looking down at her body, once so beautiful now stained with blood, her eyes wide open. Oh gods, what had he done? What was happening to him? Why the voices, why the death, why the longings? Why, why, why. Mommy, mommy, all for you, all for you! He wanted to wave away the flies converging, but he didn't. He didn't because only a mad man would do such a thing. He wasn't a mad man, he _wasn't_!

Oh immortals, yes he was. He was completely and utterly insane, and what frightened him more than anything was that he didn't know when he'd become that way. All he knew was that suddenly he was laughing like a maniac and weeping at the same time. She had loved him. She had _trusted_ him. She had seen such pain in him and sympathized and understood… Oh why couldn't she have guessed his heart and mind before he'd told? If she had, it would be _him_ dead here, _not_ her, _him_. He suddenly stopped the hysterics and looked down at her.

The voices were coming back, screaming at him to ensure no trace of her was ever found. He wanted to fight it, he wanted so badly to fight it… But he couldn't… He couldn't because he wasn't strong enough to; and he was tired, so tired, and he just wanted to give up, to stop fighting so that this… this whatever he was in would end all the sooner. He wasn't Lucien Lachance. Lucien could have fought off the madness. Lucien would have _had_ to with all the guilt upon his head. Not him, though, not him. He wanted to be released, he didn't want this torment, but he knew, even as he was about to topple into madness again, that he never would. Fate was sealed, destiny written, and he… he just couldn't fight it anymore.

ES

Maria, Maria, we could have had a life together once upon a time. This should never have happened and you would still be alive. You would still steal kisses and wrap your arms around me from behind just because you knew it would startle me from my books, from my dreams, from my madness; madness that ended you, madness that will end the Brotherhood, madness that will take all I have come to care for away, and then drag me down to Sithis _with_ them.

And I want to stand up and walk away before I can do anything more to you, but I can't because already the darkness is coming and you're fading away and the only image I can see is my mother watching me and smiling, and I know I will lose. You have not been spared from your wanton lover's madness. Did Sithis and the Night Mother not care enough about you to spare you even that little decency? Of course not; and for that reason and so many more, the Night Mother will die, Sithis will die, everything and everyone will _die_! And when all is done, so will I. I will watch the world burn and then I will end my own life, as I've longed to do so often before.

I am a victim of fate, my love. I am destiny's plaything. I am nothing but a marionette controlled by some sick and twisted puppeteer. I am doomed, I am finished, and I am destined to be despised and hated for all eternity. I will not escape. I never will no matter how hard I try. Even though _you_ tried so hard to save me, even though the very one I seek to annihilate gave his _everything_ to spare me this fate, I will not escape; though I desperately want to, because Sithis and the Night Mother haven't had their fun yet. Fate's Games haven't played out for me yet.

ES

He entered the sanctuary looking distant, lost, distracted… empty. "Mathieu, where have you been?" Lucien asked.

Mathieu started out of his daze and looked blankly at the man. "Been? Oh, sorry Speaker, I'm… Distracted. I've been… out."

Lucien glared suspiciously at him. "Have you seen Maria?" Lachance asked.

Mathieu was silent a long moment. Finally he answered, "She isn't here?"

"She hasn't come back. She was supposed to return hours ago," Lucien replied.

Mathieu swallowed over a lump in his throat and looked miserably down. Half to himself he muttered, "I pray to Sithis she is all right." And partially it was true. He prayed to Sithis that she had found her comfort, found her relief, and forgotten all her pain. He prayed the deity forgave her for her stupidity and allowed her the respite the unholy vision had deserved. _His_ unholy vision, so beautiful… "I-I need to lie down. I… I don't feel well." Quickly he took his leave, and all the while he felt Lucien's eyes burning into his back, so suspicious, so guarded. Oh draw your blade Lachance, strike me down, for if you don't you will lose _everything_…

(A/N: There are so many layers to this character that sadly go unheeded because of his crimes, but here I attempt to touch on one.


	23. Misbehaving

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: There will probably be three or four up today, if I'm lucky. Made some changes to this one. I got a bit more information on Razelan's back story and had to correct some things.)

Misbehaving

It had started with a laugh. A simple laugh. He'd said something that had amused her and she'd begun to laugh, but quickly stopped herself. It didn't matter. It had startled him and burned into his mind. She had a sense of _humor_? Immediately, though, she'd become strict and firm and unimpressed again. She'd scoffed at him and turned her nose up, marching proudly away with her guards at her side. It was odd. He hadn't even known her kind _could_ laugh.

She chastised herself viciously. That idiot, that drunk, had almost made her laugh. How degrading, how beneath her, how pathetic… how she wanted to feel what it would be like. She quickly pushed that thought away. She was an ambassador and she had duties to attend to. Serious ones. No fool drunk would distract her from her tasks. She honesty didn't know why she allowed him to stay so close to her.

They were sitting in a Jarl's palace and he asked loudly, "What does a guy have to do to get a drink around here." She'd choked on her wine and nearly spat it out in horror. What had he just _said_? But he made the Jarl laugh, and all his court, and he broke the ice and made her job that much easier. She still couldn't fathom how. He lacked _any_ hint of charm or social grace, yet they seemed to love this man's antics. And by the end of it, she was actually smiling _with_ them.

ES

Yeah, he followed her. So what? Not like he had anything better to do. When he'd first seen her and her soldiers he'd been a beggar; and he'd disliked the Thalmor. They were sticks in the mud, didn't know how to have fun. He followed her around begging for coin almost twenty-four seven, and no threats could get him to stop until finally she relented and gave him gold. When he kept coming back, she finally gave up and let him follow them around, even giving him a prominent position in the East Empire Company hoping it would make him leave. It didn't, and she surrendered completely. After all, what harm could he be? He had no discernible political view and he posed no threat.

He watched over her shoulder now, as she poured over some maps and documents. He was curious. Sue him. "Bad plan," he said finally.

She looked up, annoyed. She turned and glared icily at him, saying, "Coming from _you_ of all people? I will promptly discard your concerns, thank you very much."

"Honey, honey, look at it. Your approach is all wrong," he insisted.

"Razelan, if you call me honey once more, I will have your tongue cut out," she warned humorlessly.

"Elenwen, have I ever let you down?" he asked.

"Multiple times," she answered. She was serious. He was misbehaved, had a twisted sense of humor, said the most inappropriate things, and that was just to _start_. "Stay out of my way, or I will set Ondolemar on you."

"Pssh, really? Ellen, you can do better," Razelan replied. She scoffed and sent him away. As it turned out, he'd been right all along, and she was startled to realize that maybe, just maybe, he wasn't as much of a nitwit as he pretended to be. Perhaps he could even come in handy. Besides being a distraction, bait, and a meat shield, of course.

ES

He spotted her sorting through some books and snuck quietly up behind her. It was inviting disaster, he knew, but oh well. What was life without some risks? He suddenly pinched her sides and she cried out in alarm and jumped, spinning around. "You imbecile!" she shouted furiously.

"You liked it," he flirted, still holding her waist. He pulled her close and she nearly electrocuted and or scorched him. He laughed, barely ducking under it. "Sweetheart, get a sense of humor."

"Out!" she furiously ordered. "You promised to behave yourself. This is not behaving. Leave my presence immediately."

"Tell me you don't like it when I misbehave," he growled, suddenly pulling her to his body again and stealing a kiss.

She gaped and shouted, "You insulting little worm! I could have you executed here and now for this offense! For a-a _human_ to put his lips upon a _Thalmor_? How _dare_ you!?"

"If you wanted me dead, Ellen, I'd be dead," he replied. She started. He chuckled then walked away leaving her flustered and speechless. Why, you ask? Because he was right.

ES

He took to touching her at every opportunity, his arm brushing hers, his hand 'accidentally' bumping into or covering her hand, his fingers brushing along her shoulders or her back, his lips lightly touching the back of her neck as he watched over her shoulder. He was challenging her. That worthless slob was _challenging_ her. This man did not want to _live_. So why was he still living?

"I've had enough of your gross disrespect!" she was shouting at him. He was listening calmly, a smug expression on his face. This time he'd brushed a little lower than the back, and she had been in front of her people. They were gaping in horror at him and he was having a field day with the reactions he'd incurred. What? He'd always been a troublemaker. Thalmor hated troublemakers. "Guards, throw him in prison!" she ordered.

Nothing new to him. It was like being grounded when he was little. She'd done it often before. The Thalmor soldiers immediately advanced on him. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Oh, Ellen, be sure to give me a nice cell. You know, like what the Black-Briar boys get when they end up in trouble." She was practically on fire as he left with the soldiers as casually as if it were just another day. He looked around his cell on arriving there. Well, it wasn't a Black-Briar cell, but the twin bed, table, and dresser were pretty homey. His amusement grew. She'd listened to him.

ES

He'd never been frightened before; not for so long. But when Ondolemar appeared at her side in front of his cell, his mind went into overdrive. The Commander was strict, the Commander was intolerant of any sort of disrespect to his kind, and the Commander was her little, or twin, brother. He couldn't remember which. "This is the one who so often follows in your footsteps, sister?" Ondolemar asked her.

"He is," Elenwen replied.

"What has he done to be sentenced? Ambassador, has he shown you some great disrespect?" the Commander asked, and Razelan nearly had a panic attack when the man's hands lit with spells of destruction.

Elenwen watched her follower icily. Yes. Yes, brother, he has shown me _gross_ disrespect. He has made me laugh on more than one occasion and he has nearly made me throw away all dignity on others. He will not keep his hands off of me. His fingers play down my spine, graze my hand or arm; his lips… they tickle the nape of my neck so that it takes my all to restrain from shivering, and he has stolen kisses that were never his to take, but that I do not want another to have. He has shamed me and our family, brother, and for that offense if I tell you any of this, you will slaughter him in some horrific and painful way…

"No, brother. He has shown me no disrespect. He simply annoyed me," she replied to her lesser ranking Thalmor sibling, and Razelan's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Elenwen, everyone annoys you. If you had your way I would have been imprisoned or executed hundreds of times over. Release the man, I pray you. There are more serious offenses to pursue than your annoyance and stubborn pride," Ondolemar said. She'd done just that. She still had no idea how long they'd stood looking at each other before he'd left.

ES

"Razelan. And you promised to behave yourself this time," she said to him during the party, as her brother accused him of belittling the Aldmeri Dominion. No punishment, no order of arrest. Just 'you promised to behave yourself.' But he had! He hadn't said anything! He still didn't know what had prompted the Commander to come up to him and accuse him so randomly. "Remove him. He is disturbing the other guests," Elenwen ordered.

"I protest! This is an insult to my person. This time I'm completely innocent!" he insisted, and he wondered why he bothered. Never before had he been so eager to defend himself, even under false claims. But the reproach in her eyes and the disappointed tone, because she so believed he would contain himself… She'd given him enough trust to let him into this party. _Him_, of all people, amongst a place filled with nobility. This time he was determined to prove to her that he hadn't let her down again.

She looked hesitant, then Ondolemar said, "Forgive me Ambassador. I allowed this fool to provoke me. There is no further need for disruption on my account."

Well, her brother said _something_ along those lines. He hadn't really been paying attention. Every word out of the Commander's mouth was something negative about him, so it was only natural his first reaction would be, "Absolutely not! I protest!" Then he realized he'd just been spared an embarrassment and stammered over his words until finally just giving up. It didn't matter anyway, because she looked almost relieved and her eyes softened and a hint of a grateful smile was on her lips. He liked seeing her smile. She didn't very often. Wait, what was he _telling_ himself? Ugh, he needed a drink. Hopelessly he sat back down. He was done with this disaster, and dancing was starting anyway.

But then she was there. "Dance with me," she ordered simply, and he started. Had she just… No way. But she was waiting for him to rise. Finally he did so. After all, there would never be another moment in which touching her in any way would be accepted. He swept her onto the dance floor. Granted he wasn't the greatest dancer around, but he'd picked up enough to get by; and apparently it was good enough for her. She was smiling again. He liked her smile.

**(A/N: Quest Referenced-Diplomatic Immunity. When I first watched Diplomatic Immunity on YouTube, the player had gotten Ondolemar to do the distraction. When Elenwen spoke to Razelan I was surprised. Why was Razelan there anyway? He certainly didn't seem to fit in with the Jarl's and Nobles? She referred to him by name and seemed to know him well if she'd gotten him to promise to behave, and probably invited him too. This idea just came from there.**

**Ondolemar and Elenwen as siblings came because they were the only two Thalmor I saw at that party, and there was a Skyrim Battles thing on YouTube that went Ondolemar and Elenwen versus Ulfric and someone else whose name I don't recall. Ondolemar randomly started talking to her just before one of the battles started. Odd reasoning, I know, but oh well.)**


	24. Bounty Collector

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today. I got this idea when the bounty collector met me outside of Riften. I was fighting a dragon, and he suddenly joined. I didn't know who or what he was until he confronted me. To my surprise, though, he asked for less than I owed. From other accounts he usually asked for far, far more, and your name might not be cleared either, but he asked for less and my characters name was cleared. I found it amusing.)

Bounty Collector

She had been fighting off a dragon when he approached. He had taken one look and raced in just as she was near death, barely managing to save her from the dragon's jaws. Quickly it had fallen. She had thought he posed no threat. She was wrong. She gazed up at the man in fear now, backing against the rocks behind her. "Stop right there!" he ordered.

She obliged, nervous and flustered. What had she done? "What do you want?" she asked.

"You have quite the bounty on your head in the Rift. You pay me, and I see that your name is cleared," he replied. Her eyes widened. A bounty collector! He was a bounty collector! He was a bounty collector, and _she_ was almost penniless.

"I don't have the gold," she admitted helplessly.

"In that case, you will die," he replied.

"No, wait, please!" she begged, beseechingly falling to her knees and reaching out to him. "I-I do not have the gold, but I have some gems with me. They will fetch you a fair price, I promise you, please!" Quickly she removed everything of value she had with her; the few bits of jewelry she'd found, the gems, desperately she'd offered them to him. He scoffed and she sobbed, covering her mouth. Still weak with any form of weapons, clueless in magic, and hardly able to use her shouts, she couldn't _hope_ to defeat him.

"Do you take me for a fool, lady? I know what these objects go for, and at peak price they are not good enough," he replied.

She sobbed again and bowed her head low. "I will do anything," she pled, and there was no limit to that. Not even if he demanded favors of the intimate kind, and she knew full well that is exactly what most of the men in this land would ask for.

He was silent, though, making no move. Finally he replied, "I will make sure this gets back to the Jarl. What it does not cover, I will pay off. Consider your name cleared, for now." She looked up at him quickly, eyes wide and hopeful. "I will be back though, my lady. In two months' time I will be back, and I expect my payment in full, and then some for the gold you've cost me. If you do not oblige, you will pay the price," he warned icily.

"Thank you…" she breathed, almost in a daze. Then just like that he was gone. He was gone, and her relief ended as abruptly as it had come. How could she ever _hope_ to pay back all she owed in two months' time?

ES

She tried desperately, doing favors for anyone she could come across. She'd helped so many, in fact, that she'd been named Thane. She'd been given a place to live that, luckily, she hadn't had to pay for. But at the end of one month it wasn't even _half_ of what she owed him, and she was desperate. She was desperate, and there was only one thing she could possibly do anymore. The thought shattered her soul, her spirit, her heart, her very being… but she was young and inexperienced, and it was the only solution she could come up with. So she sold the one thing she had left. Her body…

It wasn't difficult. Many of the men in Riften were pigs. Many of them were all too willing and eager to take her into their beds and play out whatever fantasies they could come up with in their usually alcohol induced frenzies. Each night, though, she prayed to die. Each night she regretted her choice more and more. Each night she submitted helplessly until finally they finished with her. And the second month passed by, and she summed up all she had made, and still… still it wasn't enough. Oh gods. She couldn't even remember what she'd _done_. All she remembered was transforming into the beast, and then nothing… Had she killed? If so, how many?

He came to her then, as she was counting. She felt the cold tip of a sword at the back of her neck and froze, paling. "Where is the gold you owe me?" he asked coldly. She closed her eyes tightly and willed her tears away.

Slowly she rose and answered, "On the table." He looked to it then sat in a chair and began to count. She didn't dare move, her head hung low.

"Three quarters of what you owed is here. Where is the last portion?" he icily questioned, looking up at her with eyes glittering dangerously.

"I need more time," she meekly whispered.

"You have run _out_ of time," he replied, rising menacingly. "Give me an offer quickly, woman, or you will die."

ES

She burst into tears, shaking and covering her face. She didn't see the hesitance flash through his eyes, the uncertain way he relaxed his fighting muscles and almost moved back. Quickly he went back to the menacing appearance. Never before had tears swayed him. They wouldn't start _now_. Pleas and cries for mercy had gone unheeded by him time after time. She would be no different. "Well!" he shot furiously.

Her sobs had slowed, and slowly she looked up at him, tears still in her eyes, her teeth gently clenched in misery. Finally she closed them tightly, and to his absolute shock she began to let her dress slip off of her shoulders and down her arms. It took him a moment to fully comprehend what she was doing. He'd known immediately, of course, but to actually _comprehend_ what she was offering him… His lips parted slowly. Immediately he felt his skin flush. Then he saw her bruises and cuts, and he knew what she had done to try and pay him back.

Guilt suddenly shot through him, weighing heavily upon his heart and mind and soul. Oh gods… what had he driven her to _do_? Never before had he felt guilt, remorse, _anything_. In these dark times you did what you could to scrape together enough money to feed yourself, to make a living for yourself, and he had found his talent. It was all part of the job. What his bounties did to get the gold was none of his concern. But here he was, swiftly moving out from behind the table and moving towards her.

In two long strides he stood in front of her. His hands went to her own, stopping her from moving the gown any farther down. She whimpered in fear and looked up at him, eyes wide with uncertainty. "I do not disappoint!" she desperately exclaimed, and he realized that she was afraid he was going to kill her. She was afraid that he doubted it would be worth the dues he would miss out on.

"Enough," he ordered firmly. She stopped struggling and looked up at him in despair. "Enough," he repeated softly.

She sobbed, pleading as she buried her face in his breastplate, "Be swift about it."

He was silent a long moment, simply holding her arms… just-just holding her arms. Her skin was soft and warm. He'd never been gladder to have removed his gauntlets in order to count coin. She was so vulnerable, so delicate, and for a moment the thought of all the men who had touched her, who had hurt her, sent a wave of despair and fury through him. "I will not harm you," he finally said. "I will not harm you, and I will not drag you into your bed and have my way with you. Keep your gold. Your debt is forgiven."

ES

She could hardly look up at him in shock and wonder before he had released her and swiftly strode by. Before she could call a thank you he was out the door. Only then did she realize how softly, how gently, he'd been holding her. His chin had rested upon her head, the warmth of his body had been felt even through the heavy armor he wore. His hands had been softly on her arms, gently moving up and down and gliding over her skin.

His fingers had not dug into her limbs bruising them as so many others had. He had not struck her. He had not dragged her into her bedroom and taken her. He had not even nipped at her. She had forgotten what it was like, to be held tenderly. She had forgotten… She sniffed and looked back at the gold on the table blankly. She wanted him to return. She wanted to see him sitting there watching her. No gold, just him. She missed his touch, and that thought frightened her more than anything ever _had_. Let him return…


	25. The Wizard of Understone Keep

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Third up today. He actually did lie down when I was doing this quest that's name I've forgotten. Killed him in one file, regretted it, spared him in another just running away, and found out he was Calcelmo's nephew later on.)

The Wizard of Understone Keep

The rubbing was done. The key to translating the journal was in her hands. All she had to do was escape. Escape without being seen. She could have done it; if _he_ hadn't shown up. About to leap down, she heard voices and caught her breath. Quickly she scrambled behind the tablet and gazed down. There he entered, his guards flanking him on all sides. He was talking about the security. They would have seen the bodies. He told his soldiers to spread out and search, and she knew she had to get out before it was too late.

It could have worked, except he didn't go with his men. He lay upon one of the benches to wait for a report, and she knew then what she would have to do. This wizard, this young man, had to die. And he had to die silently. She leapt from the perch unseen, then silently hugged the walls, making her way towards him. She drew her dagger soundlessly, but as she neared… As she neared she paused. His eyes were closed and softly he was breathing. He was asleep?

She felt relief. Perhaps she could still get away with this. Quietly she slunk by him, but just as she was passing him his eyes opened and he started. She caught her breath as she met his irises with her own, wide and startled and afraid. He just looked puzzled. For a long moment there was silence, then she realized in dismay that there was no other choice. He caught the look in her eyes, though, and gasped. The same time she lunged with the blade, he threw up Stoneflesh. The blow deflected with minor injury, and the young man, Calcelmo's nephew, leapt up and began shouting for his guards.

ES

He backed away and began throwing spell after spell at this intruder in his uncle's museum, his lab. She leapt after him determinedly, slashing and cutting whenever possible. Aicantar was becoming more and more afraid. He watched in horror and awe as she cut down his bodyguards one after another. He would have applauded her if he hadn't been sighted as her next victim. He knew he would stand no chance against her. He had no weapon, only his magic, and it was running low. As she lunged Stoneflesh gave out, and he cried out in pain as the dagger struck him in the abdomen. She withdrew it swiftly and went for another stab.

He cast a healing spell on himself and turned, fleeing. His magic was drained, now. He was helpless. She caught him on the stairs. He cried out in pain as the blade sliced across his side leaving a deep gash. He fell to the ground, covering the wound, and tried to scramble away. She leapt upon him like a cat playing with its prey, though, and the dagger was at his throat. She stopped, lightly panting, and gazed into his eyes relishing her victory. Should he bother to plead? She would never listen. Instead he swallowed dryly and closed his eyes, laying back his head in surrender.

ES

She stopped, surprised. He was at her mercy. With one cut he would die. Yet here he was, offering his throat to her, surrendering up his life. She felt uncertainty and fear upon her. She didn't want to kill him. Divines only knew how she didn't want to kill him. So young, so intelligent, such promise… Now so helpless. She had to move now, before his magic regenerated. If she gave it an opportunity to regenerate, he would kill her… But she couldn't bring herself to end his life… His chest rose and fell so evenly, her body rising and falling with its rhythm. It would stop with one cut…

Then her thoughts went to Calcelmo. This was his nephew, very likely the only relative he had left in the world. This was his flesh and blood. This young man meant _everything_ to him. Could she really take the young wizard away from the one who loved him so dearly? More importantly, was the only reason she was asking this question to try and justify for herself why she had already resolved she wouldn't kill the wizard lying beneath her?

She suddenly rose and backed away. His eyes shot open in shock, and quickly he sat up looking at her in disbelief. She shook her head then fled. He could only watch blankly after her. His life had just been spared. For what reason? And why did it so disappoint him to watch her race away…?

**(A/N: Quest Referenced-Can't remember, but something along the Thieves Guild quest line.)**


	26. Azura's Star

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Fourth up today.)

Azura's Star

Find a mage who can turn the whitest of stars as black as night. Long after the Dragonborn had left those words rang in her head. Could any man truly be so powerful? Of course she didn't believe it meant the literal stars. She knew it meant Azura's. Still… Who _was_ this man, she wondered. And finally curiosity got the best of her. Soon after the Dragonborn left, so did she. She went seeking this mage who claimed such power. To only see him would be the greatest honor of all.

She knew he was to be her rival. She knew the Dragonborn could just as easily have betrayed her as him. She wasn't even sure what he would do to her when he saw the one the Dragonborn had chosen over him. She neared Winterhold, though, and there was no going back. She reached the inn and silently entered. She looked around then went to the counter. "Can I help you?" the man asked.

"I'm looking for a mage," she replied.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked.

"No, no, not just any mage… This one does not attend the college. This one may even be a stranger in these parts. And he keeps to himself," she said.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but…" the man began.

"I believe she is talking about _me_," a voice said from the side, and quickly she turned and caught her breath. A high elf! His eyes fell on her, smouldering and cold. "I had a feeling you would come," he remarked.

ES

He summed up the Dark Elf woman, waiting for her to respond. When she could only stare, he said, "So this is Azura's prophetess. This is the woman the Dragonborn chose to return the star to. No wonder. I will not hesitate to admit you are quite lovely; nothing like what I expected. This is the one who serves the wicked Daedra."

"I serve only Azura," she replied.

"Is there a difference?" he asked.

"You know the answer," she replied.

"That she is not inherently evil? Please. You actually believe that?" he replied, unimpressed.

"You do not?" she asked.

He smirked, amused, but quickly the smirk fell. "Why have you come here? You do not know if I will let you leave alive. You do not know if I have already killed you. Is there a reason you came to the one who rivalled you?" he asked.

"I wanted only to see you," she answered.

"For what purpose?" he asked.

"I wondered very much at what kind of man could turn the whitest of stars black as night," she answered.

ES

He was silent a long moment. Finally he said, "Are you satisfied with what you see?"

"Very much so, though I expected someone… much older," she answered.

"Do you believe I will kill you?" he asked.

"I will not be surprised either way," she answered. "But killing me will not get the star back."

"But it would be oh so satisfying," he answered.

"Have I hurt your high elf pride so deeply?" she asked.

"Very _much_ so," he answered.

"Do I impress you?" she asked.

He was silent. Finally he answered, "With your questions and answers both."

"Do you know my name?" she wondered.

Another silence, and then he replied, "Aranea."

"How long have you known?" she asked.

"As long as you have known my own name," he answered.

"Nelacar…" she breathed.

He was silent, reading her, judging her, and finally he asked, "Do you believe Azura's Star is the only one I can turn?"

"Show me otherwise," she replied

ES

He turned his head slightly then walked outside. She followed him. Looking up into the sky he raised his hand towards the brightest star. Clenching his fist and muttering a chant, or a prayer, the star disappeared. She caught her breath. Unclenching his fist the star reappeared.

"How, young man, did you come to have such power?" she wondered.

"Not by means of the Daedra," he answered. "But the Divines."

"Light and darkness," she murmured. He glanced over at her. After a long moment he took her wrist and lifted her hand. Gently he placed his light palm against her dark one.

"I suppose," he muttered. She felt warm, he felt himself shiver, and soon they linked their fingers through one another.

"Do you believe in destiny and fate?" she wondered.

"I believe in destiny and fate, but also logic and control. Fate can be changed, destiny can be rewritten, but it takes a very special type to do so," he replied.

"Do you wish to rewrite the future we both see?" she asked.

"No… For once I will let fate guide me," he answered.

"Why?" she wondered, though they both knew the answer.

"Because it is unimaginable that you will not be in it," he replied. She gazed up at him in wonder. Gently he brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Destiny will lead us to one another again. We will be brought together as one, and from there… From there it is blank. From there we will make our own future."

"And I will await until the time you come to me arrives," she replied. Bowing her head to him she kissed his own hand, then they pulled apart and returned to their domains.

**(A/N: Quest Referenced-Azura's Star.)**


	27. It Will Not Be for Nothing

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: I'll start by saying my character is a complete neutral in Skyrim's war. Tullius and Ulfric are both characters that you can go very much in depth with, though, and they are fun to write about. Personally, however, I don't care much for Ulfric or Tullius or the Thalmor. I'm not hating on them, but as far as I'm concerned, and don't hate me for it, they're all being childish. The Thalmor figure that just because Talos was human he doesn't deserve to be a god, bad news for them, in every mythology in existence the gods are in the form of humans. Ulfric I believe does truly love Skyrim, and Tullius truly cares for the people. However, I'm pretty sure the both of them are in it for the glory too. I've seen my brother join both sides of the war, and their dialogue is almost literally parallel to each other, same words, same basic types of missions, same gifts, until the end of the war. Honestly the place would be better off being ruled by none of the three sides, but I digress.)

It Will Not Be For Nothing

She didn't know what had happened. All she knew was that suddenly her world, her land, had been plunged into Chaos. All she'd known was torn up in a fortnight. A Civil War spearheaded by none other than their Thane, Ulfric Stormcloak. She'd hated him at first. She'd despised him. But as she heard of the things that were going on, as she began to pay more attention to everything, she began to realize why it had been done… She realized why he had done what he had. Then her feelings began to change. Then there was gratefulness and sympathy. She watched the way he was with the dying soldiers, and each movement, each soft word he spoke to them, tore her to pieces until she would flee back home in tears.

She began to hate the Imperials. Hate them with a passion. She was scared, she was uncertain about the future, and when her Thane was ambushed, she'd been stricken with misery. They would execute him, she knew. They would execute him in a heartbeat and all of this would be for nothing… But he'd come back. He'd come back as proud as ever, and now more determined than ever. She didn't know by what miracle he was still living, but never before had she thought she could feel this way for one man's return. She'd heard he was coming back while she'd been buying fruits and vegetables. They were parading victoriously through the gates and she'd raced to see.

ES

She watched in awe as he and the men with him rode back into the city. But he looked distracted, mind elsewhere. Mind on the death and suffering of the land. Just then she felt herself being shoved from behind and cried out. She fell to the ground dropping the fruits and vegetables. The Thane's horse had been startled, had reared up, had almost sent him sprawling before he got a handle on it and looked down at her sharply. She forgot to breathe as his eyes met hers, cold and dark. His right hand man wasn't as forgiving.

Galmar seized her roughly, dragged her up and yelled, "How dare you, you little wench! He has not survived a thousand battles only to be killed being thrown from a horse because of a girl's stupid mistake!"

She had been terrified, near tears, but then the Thane's hand was upon her assailant's wrist, tightly squeezing. "Enough. Release her," Ulfric simply ordered.

"My Thane…" he began.

"Release her," Ulfric repeated. "There is enough cruelty in these streets." Finally she felt herself placed on the ground again. She fell to her knees and immediately began to gather up the fruits and vegetables, desperate to get out of the way, out of sight. But then he was there, simply kneeling and gathering up the objects. His hand brushed hers and they both paused. She trembled and looked up, eyes wide and frightened. He met her eyes with his own, calm and gentle. Soon enough he removed his hand. She shivered and looked down quickly, hiding her blush.

"Forgive me," she breathed.

"There is nothing to forgive," he replied. She didn't know what to say or do. He finished placing the things in her basket then stood once more. "You are the blacksmith's apprentice."

"Y-yes," she replied. He summed her up a moment then drew his axe and gave it into her hands.

"We will see how well he has taught you," Ulfric stated. She nearly dissolved. Easily the man swung back up onto his horse and motioned for his men to follow. Quickly she moved out of the way and watched in awe after them. Her eyes went to the axe and she swallowed dryly. Closing her eyes tightly she looked down at the ground as the rest of the town left.

ES

She'd never worked so carefully on anything before as she did on his weapon. With tenderness and caution she sharpened and improved it, ever careful not to ruin the material. It was a week before she even began to consider it done. "Hermir, you can do no more with it," her teacher had said, so she'd tucked the axe away and washed herself, preparing to present it to the Thane.

She entered the great throne room as gracefully as she could. She approached the Thane's throne and knelt before him. In a gesture of deep, deep respect she kissed his hands. He watched her approvingly, impressed with her conduct. He saw Galmar moving to drag her away, but with a simple motion he called the man down. "Leave her be. _You_ should show such respect."

"My Lord, your axe," she said, drawing the weapon and placing it into his hands. He took it and looked it over, turning it in his hands.

"She has ruined it beyond repair, no doubt," Galmar said.

"The gods themselves should craft such a weapon," Ulfric replied, glaring icily at his friend and warning him through a look not to speak again. "Lady, you have proven yourself well indeed. What is your name?"

She shivered as his hand came upon her shoulder. She looked at it then back up at him. "Hermir, my lord," she replied. Ulfric nodded.

"I will remember it," he declared. Oh gods, why did she shiver at his every word, tremble at his every touch. She knew why. Oh how she knew… But she was nothing more than a little girl in his eyes. When she had been nursing he had likely been fighting his first battle.

"It would be my honor, my Thane," she answered, bowing her head low.

ES

All at once his fingers were beneath her chin, slowly lifting it so that her eyes would meet his own. She saw a sort of calm come over him. Softly he vowed, "It will all end soon, my lady. This war will end soon."

"Will the outcome be what you so wish it to be?" she asked before she could check her tongue.

"I do not know," he replied. "I pray it does, but if not…"

"It will not have been for nothing," she stated, placing her hands upon his knees on seeing his sudden hesitancy, his sudden display of weakness. It frightened her to see a moment of weakness in this man who was so strong, who fought so gallantly… It frightened her so much.

"Won't it?" he asked.

"Ulfric, your name will live on for eternity, your love for this land and your people will be sung of for centuries to come, your efforts will be written in legend," she vowed.

"The names of greater men than I have been wiped from existence, Hermir," he stated. She felt tears in her eyes and placed her head upon his knees. Gently he stroked her hair. "If they come, I will be executed. You know this as well as I. I will be executed, and my body will be left carrion for the animals." She sobbed, dreading the thought.

"Please, do not think such things," she begged.

"Will _you_ dare to bury me?" he wondered. "Defying law, risking your very life, will _you_ bury me?"

"Yes," she replied, and her voice was vehement, passionate, loathing. "At cost of my life, you will be given a proper burial." She could feel he was startled, taken aback. She looked up into his eyes, her own set and sincere, and for once he glanced quickly away, a sudden warmth coming to his face.

"Then you are braver than any man," he replied. "Go now, child, and bide the time until this all ends." Shakily she rose, composing herself, and left without a word more.

ES

"My lord, you are fond of her," Galmar remarked.

Ulfric looked sharply at him, his gaze warning him off. Soon, though, he closed his eyes and sighed, saying, "Perhaps."

"Will you act?" Galmar asked.

"When all of this is over, when this war is said and done, and when I know I will live to see another day, then, only then, will I act," Ulfric replied, rising and walking from the throne room, axe in hand.


	28. And if I Surrender?

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today. Either side of the war you join, it's all pretty much the same. Until the end. I choose no sides, but without any question the ending if you join the Stormcloaks is _far_ more romanticized and well thought out than if you join the Imperials. Tullius' victory dialogue is basically, "Any last words?" Ulfric's reply, "Let the Dragonborn do it." Tullius, "Fair enough. You want to, Dragonborn, or shall I?" It's bland and colorless. Judging by the Skyrim trailer and the endings of the war, its obvious where the producers were leaning with the game. The Dragonborn is the default prisoner you start with before making your own, and the side you join is the Stormcloaks or a neutral. Hence the reason that for this one I go with the Stormcloak ending.)

And If I Surrender?

He watched silently as the Stormcloaks converged outside the castle. "So it ends," he remarked quietly.

"Sir?" she questioned, voice cracking.

He turned slowly to her, eyes tired. He was so drained, and for a moment, just a moment, she could swear she saw relief in his eyes, calm, acceptance… And her heart dropped. "Let them come," he said gently, moving towards the chairs.

She felt like sobbing as he sat, so resigned, so ready to die… She approached and knelt before him. Her hands were upon his knees, then she reached up and cupped his cheek gently. "We have not lost yet. If we are to die, we will take Ulfric _with_ us."

"No… Not we, Rikke. Me. _Only_ me. Leave this place, now," he ordered, gently cupping her own cheek, and terror came to her eyes, coupled with tears.

"You-you have given up," she said in realization.

"Long ago," he answered.

Flashback

Neither of them knew how they'd come to be in this position now, beneath the sheets of his bed, bodies moving together as one. They had never felt anything for each other, had they? But everything they were doing now seemed to debunk that theory. She gasped for breath as they pulled away from a kiss. What had driven this passion they felt now, driving them to throw away all they had ever believed for the sake of this one night? All she'd done was enter his room as he was bent over his desk writing fervently. All he'd done was obey her plea to him to rest a moment. All they'd done was meet each other's eyes as she gently felt his forehead and then, well, they weren't here right now because he'd let her pull away after her blush.

Only days later the Stormcloak's were at their door, taking out the final stronghold they'd had, and at that moment Tullius knew all was lost. She didn't believe it, she wouldn't, she was in denial, but it was as plain to him as the daylight and the stars. They had lost, and Ulfric was victorious…

Present

Tears burned her eyes. "No, no," she breathed, gently holding his face, her forehead nuzzling his. "Do not give up. Please, do not give up. Oh divines, for all of our sakes, you cannot forsake us. You cannot forsake me."

"I will never forsake you," he swore. "But lady, you must know when there is no hope."

"There is always hope," she replied.

"Secure the door," they heard Ulfric order. She sobbed, shaking her head in denial. She was trembling now, and he embraced her so, so gently.

"Go," he whispered.

"_Never_," she vowed. "Do not make me leave you. Not now. Find hope once more, beloved one, find your hope once more."

Softly he kissed her and answered, "Give me a reason to try."

"Am _I_ not reason enough?" she asked. He said nothing and she knew… She was more than enough. But it didn't matter… So she upped the ante. "Because there grows inside of me a life."

Tullius slowly looked up into her eyes, gaze shocked. "What?" he breathed.

"I am with child," she replied, and his mind was instantly thrust back to that night.

His lips slowly parted in disbelief, then fear and desperation were in his eyes, but he was slow to react, and they heard Galmar say, "Already done."

ES

Before Tullius could say anything she had risen and stood protectively in front of him, ordering, "Ulfric, stop."

As the rebel leader slowly approached, Galmar and the Dragonborn with him, he asked, "Stop what? Taking Skyrim back from those who would leave her to rot?"

"You're wrong, Ulfric. We need the Empire. Without it Skyrim will surely fall to the Aldmeri Dominion," she tried to reason.

"_You_ were there _with_ them. You saw it. The day the Empire signed that damned treaty was the day the Empire died," Galmar viciously shot.

"You're a damned fool," she answered.

"Stand aside woman. We've come for the General," Galmar declared.

"He has given up," she said, sorrowfully turning around to face him. He met her eyes, his own awed, and she continued, "But _I_ have _not_."

"Rikke, go. You're free to leave," Ulfric said softly.

"I'm also free to stay and fight for what I believe in," Rikke answered.

"You're also free to die," Ulfric countered.

"This is what you wanted? Shield brothers and sisters killing each other? Families torn apart? This is the Skyrim you _want_?" Rikke demanded, tears in her eyes. She saw the hesitation flicker in her enemies own.

But then Galmar shot, "Dammit woman, stand aside!" The hesitancy faded, became cold once more, and she knew… she knew this was over.

"That's not the Skyrim I want to live in," she answered.

"Rikke, you don't have to do this," Ulfric reasoned.

"You've left me no choice. Talos preserve us," she replied.

She lunged at them all viciously. "Rikke!" Tullius exclaimed, leaping up and drawing his blade. Immediately he ran into the battle and attacked viciously, shielding her from every blow he possibly could. But they were being separated. No, no, no, please no, he silently begged the divines. Oh gods, spare the woman who bears my child. Galmar was swinging his war hammer at her. "No!" he exclaimed. The General shoved the Dragonborn back then leapt ahead, grabbing Rikke and thrusting her to the side. The blow caught him and he heard bones snapping like twigs. With a cry of pain he fell to the ground on hands and knees, clutching his side. "Enough! Enough," Tullius exclaimed, seeing the Dragonborn running for her, and those two words were all that would spare her now.

ES

Everything seemed to stop in that moment. Galmar made no move, Ulfric paused everything, and the Dragonborn froze, his blade's tip at Rikke's stomach. They all looked to Tullius. There was no need to fight anymore. The Dragonborn pulled Rikke to her feet and held her back from any potential attack. She could only gape in horror at her General, her lover's, position. "Tullius," she breathed.

"This is it for you," Ulfric declared. "Any last words before I send you to Oblivion?"

"You realize this is exactly what they wanted," Tullius replied. Rikke was safe, she would be spared, and right now that was all that mattered to him.

"What _who_ wanted?" Galmar asked.

"The Thalmor," he replied. "They stirred up trouble here. Forced us to divert needed resources and throw away good soldiers, quelling this rebellion."

"It's a little more than a rebellion, don't you think?" Ulfric questioned.

"We aren't the bad guys you know," Tullius answered.

"Maybe not, but you certainly aren't the good guys," Ulfric calmly said.

"Perhaps you're right. But then what does that make _you_?" Tullius asked.

"You just said it yourself," Ulfric soothingly answered, because despite his hatred for this man, for all he stood for, he respected him. He deeply, deeply respected him. Tullius had proven a worthy opponent, and there was part of him, just a part, that wanted to spare him, that wanted all of this to end, that wanted to see him live another day. This man was a man, just like him. In every he was like him… They thought alike, spoke alike, planned alike, were so much alike… Had it truly come to this? Killing each other over, over _this_? Who was right and who was wrong? Really? It was almost childish. They were not the ones guilty. Neither of them. Yet he would die innocent.

ES

"It makes us right," Galmar insisted, breaking the thought process. Tullius nearly scoffed. A child's words, no more no less. I'm right, you're wrong, that's final. He could have laughed. He felt Ulfric's hesitancy, and that hesitancy gave him a sense of hope. Even if he were killed here, his death would not be in vain, and he… he would be given all the respect that Ulfric could give. He would be given a burial, he would be returned to his homeland. That realization pricked at him, and he wondered. Would he have done the same for this rival? This man he had come to greatly admire and respect despite how well he hid it.

Then his eyes fell upon _her_. The woman weeping helplessly as the Dragonborn held her back. If the man released her now she would make no move, he knew. Nothing she could do would help him now. His fate was in Ulfric's hands alone. His eyes filled with pity, his teeth gently clenched. "Forgive me," he whispered to her, and only they knew what he'd said. She sobbed, looking down and shaking her head in denial. Would she be taken care of? Would Ulfric grant her help? He'd wanted to let her go, after all…

"And if I surrender?" Tullius asked, because despite it all, he felt a fire burning inside of him. One that refused to go out. He wanted to be with this woman, to live to see their child grow.

"The Empire I remember never surrendered," Ulfric answered.

"That Empire is dead. And so are you," Galmar stated, and Tullius knew… He knew there was no hope.

"So be it," he replied, bowing his head in surrender. But still Ulfric made no move. Still inside of him there raged conflict, inside of both of them, he knew.

ES

"Just kill him and let's be done with it already," Galmar insisted, seeing the pause. Not now. Not when they were so close… Don't you dare back down, my liege.

"Come Galmar, where's your sense of the dramatic moment?" Ulfric replied.

"By the gods!" Galmar exclaimed, annoyed and agitated. "If it's a good ending to some damn story you're after, perhaps the _Dragonborn_ should be the one to do it."

"Hmm, good point. Well Dragonborn, what do you say? Do you want the honor?" Ulfric asked.

"No, no, please, no!" she begged, struggling in the Dragonborn's arms.

But the hero simply replied, "I've had my fair share of killing today." She burst into tears helplessly.

"This moment we three shall be immortalized in song," Ulfric declared.

"Please, please, don't do this! Do not do this!" she pled desperately.

They were no longer listening. In horror and misery she watched Ulfric approach his victim. Tullius met the man's eyes, but only for a moment. Softly they turned in her direction, and he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Oh _gods_, I beg you! Spare him, my lord, please, spare him!" she pled, collapsing to the ground. "My General, do not leave me to raise this child alone." This time Ulfric sharply looked in her direction, stunned. Tullius shook his head sadly. Galmar gaped at her in horror, and the Dragonborn… he simply started and met the General's eyes.

Would it be enough? She didn't know. Somehow she doubted it. But if there could be a chance, even a chance that he would live to see another day… She would sell her soul to the Daedra themselves… Soon, though, Ulfric turned back to the General, and slowly he raised the axe. She sobbed and closed her eyes tightly. Gods, please, spare him… Spare him…

**(A/N: I was torn between Tullius and Elisif and Tullius and Rikke for a long time before deciding. I've watched walkthroughs of this quest ending, and in both it seems Rikke stops fighting and stands to the side as Ulfric, Galmar, and the Dragonborn attack Tullius, which made me wonder if she can survive the battle if you leave her alone. But again, I'm not choosing sides, and everyone who does kills her even when she stops fighting.)**


	29. Life and Death

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Came from the bug where you can spare Estormo. Sheath your weapon, he supposedly stops attacking. Not that my character has any loyalty to the Thalmor, but they always seem to appear in situations that are romance gold. Not that this particular oneshot is as romantic or sad as some of the others, but there is a lot that could be done with the moment you meet him.)

Life and Death

She staggered towards the lever and pulled it down. The gate opened and weakly she went through. She hoped her power would regenerate soon. Finally she could get out of here. The door ahead suddenly opened up, though, and she paused, looking at the figure that entered. A high elf, a Thalmor, and for a moment she thought it was Ancano. She shivered. Oh gods, she despised that one.

"So, you made it out of there alive. Ancano was right. You _are_ dangerous," he said in an amused and impressed tone. She listened cautiously. The fact his hands were lit with shock spells wasn't reassuring her. "I'm afraid I'll have to take that staff from you, _now_. Ancano wants it kept safe. _Oh_, and he wants you dead. Nothing personal."

"I have no quarrel with you," she replied softly, sighing. She didn't want a fight. She just wanted this all to end.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," he replied.

"Get out of my way," she warned.

"You fool. You don't stand a chance," he replied.

"I fought off Morokei, I have battled dragons. You will fall if you face me. Like all of them," she answered.

He chuckled darkly then scowled, letting the spells go. They struck her and she cried out in pain. She staggered up and pulled out the staff of Magnus. Immediately she shot him with it. If they were to fight, it would be a fair one. He was startled to find his magic gone. Then she drew her weapon. She was through with playing. This would end, and if he wasn't prepared, it was _his_ loss.

ES

She had a fire burning within her, he sensed. It was as plain as day to him the moment he entered the room. He was impressed, very much so. Unfortunately, that wouldn't save her. Or perhaps he was putting too much faith in his abilities. Humph, it didn't matter. This would end quickly. He was amused by her resistance to a fight, then even more so when she flat out told him to get out of her way. He was cautious when he drained her magic and she pulled out the staff draining his in return. He was alarmed when she pulled out her weapon and _he_ had _nothing_. Now he was desperate.

He drew an elven dagger, but he knew it would stand no chance against her blade. He would have to be quicker. He blocked her attack then sliced at her. She pulled back quickly and spun, cutting at him. He blocked it and came to within centimeters of her face. Startled they both paused. Oh by the divines, no. He would not be disarmed by her proximity. She suddenly pulled back and stabbed. He managed to parry but the dagger flew from his hand and the next thing he knew he was leaning against a table, her blade at his throat.

"I am tired of you and your kind. I have had all I can take of the Thalmor and their tyranny. You will die, young man, you will die painfully," she hissed.

"Death is only the beginning," he replied, but it wasn't said with a sneer. It was said with approval. She started. Approval? She almost shivered at the realization. If a Thalmor approved of her actions… Perhaps they weren't the actions she should take?

"It will end for you, Estormo," she answered, casting soul trap on him. He cringed and moaned at the slight discomfort of the spell entering his body. "You will never see the light _again_."

"I suppose not. A pity. It will be one of the few things I'll miss," he answered.

ES

She started and looked at him a long moment. He would miss the light? "You have only ever dealt in darkness," she said coldly. "How can you miss that which you never saw?"

"What I never saw? Lady, we are all living creatures. We all see the light, we all feel pain, we all have emotions, we are all living souls. Just, some hide it better than others," he answered. "End it, _now_. I've never cared much for life or death _anyway_." She did nothing a long moment for she knew… She knew that if she killed him, he'd won. He would die here with no regrets, inwardly laughing at her until his dying breath. She didn't see the man's hand light with a destruction spell. Finally she pulled the blade away, though, and walked from the cave.

For a moment he thought to attack again. Until it dawned on him that his life had just been spared. He started, shocked. She couldn't bring herself to _end_ him? Why? What fun was _that_? What kind of game would it be if the stakes weren't high? What fun was it if she didn't care whether he lived or died? Why was he so desperately trying to answer all these questions and more that suddenly he found himself having about her? Perhaps one day he would confront her again. Maybe then she would play the game his way. Maybe then his questions would be answered.


	30. He'd Tried

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today. Provided you haven't killed Narfi for the Brotherhood yet, or gotten assigned to, he sparks a miscellaneous quest that is really quite sad. The inn keeper in that town plays a fair role in it. When you find Reyda's necklace and bring it to the inn keeper first, he gives a line of dialogue very close to Narfi's own words, yet he isn't insane. Wondering about that ended up sparking this. I elaborated on the conversation a little.)

He'd Tried…

He'd told himself he wanted for forget. For years he'd been telling himself he wanted to forget. He wanted to forget her name, forget he ever knew her, forget… forget everything. But did he really? Her voice rang through his memories at night, her laughter and smile in his dreams, but he'd forgotten, or tried. Until the Dragonborn came and questioned him about her. Where was she? What did he know? Why had he told her brother, Narfi, that she would be back?

When these questions were posed to him he felt the stinging in his eyes that he'd almost been rid of. He felt his throat knotting and his heart breaking like they had once so long ago. Why did he tell Narfi that Reyda would be coming back soon? To spare the beggar pain, _that_ was why, and he admitted as much to the Dragonborn, and more. The man was persistent. "I tried to look for her, but after a year I just… I gave up," he'd explained to the hero.

Had it only been a year he'd searched, he wondered? Or had it been longer? Had he really given up on the hope that she would be back, or was part of him still longing to hear the door open and to listen to her say his name? "Wilhelm, I've come back. I'm sorry I was gone so long, but I lost track of time." That was what she used to say to him when she was gone for more than one day. He still hoped someday he would hear those words. The Dragonborn left to search for her, and he had hope for a moment, but quickly enough it faded because part of him knew… Part of him knew she would never return.

ES

He gazed at the necklace, holding it in his palm as if it were a priceless treasure, so cold, so beautiful, a necklace he'd gifted her once, the day he'd pledged to her his heart and told her he wanted to be with her forever. She'd accepted and he'd never seen her smile so widely before. Tears stung his eyes and he spoke words he had almost no control over, "Reyda, you found Reyda. Did you tell her Narfi cries? Did you tell her Narfi never got to say goodbye?" He almost laughed at himself. _He_ was starting to sound like the beggar now.

But the necklace was wet, and even as he looked up at the Dragonborn, he knew the expression that would be in the man's eyes. The Dragonborn looked solemn, pitying, and answered, "Narfi is not the only one who mourns, I see."

Wilhelm's soft smile fell and he let the tears quietly slip down his cheeks. After a long moment he asked, "Where?"

"She wasn't far. Her… her remains were in the river, just beside the bridge, just where the water got deep. I'm sorry," the Dragonborn answered.

"I…I suppose it isn't… isn't a surprise," he said, and his voice hitched as he choked on a sob and covered his mouth quickly. After a moment he looked up and handed the necklace back. "Bring it to Narfi," he said. "You decide now, whether to tell him or not." The Dragonborn took it, and Wilhelm knew that handing that necklace back had to have been the most difficult thing he'd ever done. As the Dragonborn left, he put another in charge of the inn and went to the river.

ES

He gazed into the water. Now he saw the outline of a skeleton. The skeleton that had once been his beautiful fiancé, his lover. The skeleton that had once laughed so merrily and brewed potions in his inn to sell in order to support herself and her slowly fading brother. What happened to you, my love? Did you slip upon a stone and strike your head? Did you scream for help, or for me, and pray that I would come. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Oh my beloved one, if I had only heard your cries, if I had only felt for even a _moment_ that something was wrong, I would have run to you, and you would still be here. I pray you did not suffer, that fear did not torment you until your dying breath. I hope to the divines that you never knew that you would never wake up again. I'm sorry, so, so, sorry…

He watched as they buried the remains, later that day. The Dragonborn was there watching solemnly, and Narfi was sobbing, and he… he was just standing there gazing into the grave and wishing with all his heart that he could join her, or that it were him being buried and not her. "You need not mourn alone, inn keeper," the Dragonborn suddenly said, and Wilhelm turned. "Let her brother in."

"Can one confide in a madman?" Wilhelm wondered.

"I have managed well with madmen in the past," the Dragonborn answered, smiling sadly. So be it. Reyda would have wanted nothing more than that her brother would be cared for.

He turned back to the grave as she was buried, and he knelt there in front of the town, in front of her brother who watched on in shock, for a moment lucid, and he kissed the ground beneath which she was buried. "I will not forsake you, or your brother," he vowed to it, so all heard, and all knew immediately what could have been. As she'd always wanted.


	31. Wicked

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Third up today. I challenged myself with this one. There really isn't much good in this character, if any at all, so I challenged myself to make him into the monster he's supposed to be and then somehow show a glint of humanity to him while still making this paring believable. I'd like to know how I did. And yes, I know he's already married. Of course if you kill his wife he sends you a thank you note saying she won't be missed, so yeah. Of course his sister does the same if you kill _him_. And I'm pretty sure if you kill his sister, his wife sends you the same type of note. Quite the twisted little family he has. No wonder he acts like he does. Then again his sister also sends hired thugs after you if you kill him, so it seems like an odd relationship between _them_.)

Wicked

"There's a likely looking filly, even if she _is_ an elf," Erikur remarked to the Dragonborn as they were talking. "You there, serving girl! What's your name, dear?" he called out to her as the Dragonborn watched on in silence.

"Uh, Brelas sir. Do you need a drink? Something to eat?" she questioned, approaching him cautiously. He found it quite amusing, and rather fetching.

"No, no, that's not what _I'm_ interested in right now," he answered lowly. "I just wanted to get a better look at you. I like what I see, my dear. And believe me, I don't say that to everyone. I'm _very_ discriminating when it comes to the female form."

"Uh, thank you sir. Was there anything else I could do for you?" she questioned, keeping her distance from him.

"Oh… not at the moment. Maybe later. Don't go far," he answered.

"Yes sir," she replied. She quickly left, looking appalled. Hmm, so much for _that_ plan. Pity. He'd very much liked what he was seeing.

ES

About halfway through the party he found himself wondering why he hadn't looked away from her once. Not even to speak to the other guests trying to converse with him. She wasn't _that_ unique. So why hadn't he turned away? The Dragonborn approached. Erikur remarked half to the hero and half to himself, "The Great War is passed. It's time the Empire and the Aldmeri Dominion put aside their differences. Prosperity is good for _everyone_."

"I saw you eying that serving girl," the Dragonborn remarked.

He looked back at Brelas and answered, "Mmm, yes… Brelas, is that the one? I hope you're not thinking of cutting me out, are you?" He chuckled. "I'm warning you, when I get my heart set on something, I'm not easily put off."

"Maybe I can talk to her for you. See if she's interested," the Dragonborn offered.

"Really? Yes, maybe that _would_ be just the thing. She seemed to be playing hard to get when I spoke to her earlier," Erikur replied, raising an eyebrow in interest and slight hope. "Go on, see what she says. Now you've gone and gotten my _hopes_ up again." He slightly surprised at his own reaction to the offer.

ES

"What can I get for you?" Brelas asked, curious as to why the Dragonborn was speaking to her.

"That fellow over there asked me to talk to you," the Dragonborn answered.

"Ugh, Erikur, right? He was talking to me earlier. I could tell what he was after," she answered. And oh how she'd been able to tell. Men like him disgusted her. "I hate working these parties. Some of the guests are nice, but there's always a few like Erikur. Please tell him to leave me alone. Politely. I'm sure _you'll_ have better luck getting through to him than _I_ would."

As the Dragonborn returned to him, Erikur demanded, "Have you _talked_ to Brelas yet? I'm not a patient man, you know."

"Yes. She wants you to leave her alone," the Dragonborn replied hesitantly.

That was when he'd snapped, as was his nature. He was accustomed to getting what he wanted, and this insult was unacceptable! "_What_?! That little _tease_. Leading me on and turning cold at the last minute. I don't _think_ so," he stated furiously, though really he knew she'd done no such thing. Not that it mattered. As already established, he got what he wanted.

ES

Eriker threw the goblet to the side, startling the other guests into silence. He stormed towards Brelas, growling, "So, you think you can toy with me, is that it? No, my dear. I have my heart set on you and I _always_ get what I _want_.

"I-I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression earlier. I meant no disrespect," she answered, backing fearfully away on seeing his cruel and murderous expression.

"Oh don't worry. I'll let you make it up to me. Now, where can we go for a little privacy, hmm?" he replied predatorily, and Brelas's eyes widened in terror. Fearfully she backed away until she could go nowhere else.

He took her arm roughly and she screamed. She tried to struggle, begging, "No! I'm sorry, but I can't go _anywhere_ with you. I _won't_. Please, I must get back to my duties." She tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron. Desperately she yanked, pulling free, and swiftly walked away towards the crowds who were watching in shock. Perhaps there she would find protection.

"Don't you _dare_ walk away from me, you slut!" he shot viciously after her, watching. "Do you _know_ who I _am_?"

He ran to catch up. She heard him coming, and she turned in fear, pleading, "Please sir, leave me alone!"

"Now you're going to be sorry you crossed me," he threatened. He looked sharply at Elenwen and yelled, "Elenwen! The servant girl has been throwing herself at me in a most _disgusting_ manner."

"Is that so, Erikur? And you with such _delicate_ sensibilities. It must have been _most_ upsetting," Elenwen replied in thinly veiled sarcasm, obviously not believing a word of it. Not that it would matter, he knew. She was looking for alliance, and loyalty to her elven cousin was secondary to that. Ondolemar, he judged, thought differently, but it didn't matter.

He ignored the anger and outrage he felt building up towards Elenwen for the insult, resisting the urge to let loose his fury on her instead, and said, "I demand that you have this wench removed from my presence at once!"

"Well, whatever the truth of it I'm sure a few words with master Relindil will have a salutary _effect_. Take her downstairs," Elenwen ordered, less than impressed with this bother.

"No!" Brelas exclaimed.

"Yes Madam Ambassador," a Thalmor soldier replied.

Brelas backed away in fear but was seized. "Mistress Elenwen, it's not _true_! I did nothing. Sir, you must tell her," she pled to Erikur desperately. "You don't know what they'll do to me! _Please_!" Erikur said nothing in reply, but instead watched after her. And for a moment, just a moment, there was hesitation. Hesitation? Strange, he'd thought he would laugh, but nothing… Nothing.

He shifted uncomfortably, but he didn't have much time to try and decipher why he was hesitating, because just as they pulled her down the stairs she screamed something at him in an elven tongue. He didn't react. At least, not until he saw the shocked and horrified expressions both Ondolemar and Elenwen were giving him. Alarm came then, and he knew what the Bosmer girl had done. She'd just placed an elven curse on him. His eyes lit up furiously, flaming. For that outrage she would pay. She would pay dearly. He scowled. Perhaps he would visit her downstairs…

ES

She wept helplessly, curling against the wall as Master Relindil stood menacingly above her, ready to let loose with an agonizing spell of torture. Just then, though, he stopped, hearing a noise. He left the cell and went to greet whoever had entered. She heard them talking, then a dark laugh from the high elf. The door shut and one of the two left. Footsteps were approaching as she was left alone with whoever had entered. She closed her eyes tightly, shivering. This wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening. Who now?

The door of her cell was thrown open and quickly she looked up. She went white. Erikur! "You," she breathed in terror.

"Enjoying your stay, Brelas?" he asked icily. She began to scream at him in her native tongue, knowing he couldn't understand her. That was for the best, because if he even began to get an _idea_ of what she was shrieking furiously, her life would be forfeit. "Now, now, that's no way to behave," Erikur purred cruelly.

"How could you?" she asked, loathingly. "Now, because of you, I will suffer torture and anguish at the hands of Relindril for the rest of my days! Curse you to walk in Oblivion for all eternity!"

He laughed darkly. "I'm already destined for _that_," he answered, a cruel glint in his eyes.

She caught the look and blanched. "No…" she breathed as he entered casually and shut the cell door behind him. She screamed as suddenly he lunged, forcing her down. Desperately she screamed and struggled against him, but he was quick, he was strong, he was powerful and determined. "No, please, please sir, I _beg_ you, don't do this to me, don't do this to me, don't do this to me!" she shrieked, sobbing now, knowing exactly what his intentions were. With another scream she surrendered, knowing she had no chance at escape, at mercy, at anything. Oh please, divines, let it end quickly.

ES

She was undressed now, at his mercy, and she just waited and prayed to the gods and goddesses that there wouldn't be too much pain… Except nothing happened… She still felt him above her, pinning her, but nothing happened. She dared to open her eyes, tears spilling from them unchecked as she looked up at him in hurt and misery, and he could almost read her every thought. How could you… How could you even _think_ to do this thing to me? I did you no ill. Who drove you to this heinous act? Was it the alcohol you have consumed? Was it the influence of those you are stupid enough to call friends? Or are you truly that wicked and cruel?

He didn't move a long moment as she gazed at him with such hatred and disgust… Finally he rose from off of her. She scrambled away and huddled in a corner, holding herself tightly and bursting into tears. He scoffed at her and left furiously. She looked after him in disbelief. He'd let her be… Her next guest had been the Dragonborn. And the Dragonborn had released her without a second thought, leading her and another prisoner to safety. The three of them parted ways and she set off towards Dragonbridge.

ES

He gazed into the drink without sipping. Why had he let her _be_? He could have broken her then and there like a twig. He would have had what he wanted with no regrets, and he would hear her screams and wails of agony and terror. It would have been so… satisfactory… No. No it wouldn't have. Why wouldn't it have been? He tried to think. He'd been genuinely hurt at her rejection, and hurt had become anger. She'd pulled away from him. How had she managed such a thing when his strength surpassed hers tenfold? Unless he'd loosened his grip on her arm. But why would _he_ of all people do such a thing? He grimaced and downed the goblet quickly.

He heard of her escape near the end of the party. Relindil was discussing it with Elenwen and Ondolemar. They didn't think he'd been listening in, but he was. "I shall send a hit squad to Dragonbridge," he heard Ondolemar declare, and the three elves separated. He was gone before they noticed he'd heard, riding towards Dragonbridge as fast as possible.

Why was he doing this again, he wondered? Why was he racing now towards the place she would be killed? Perhaps he wanted to watch it happen. Watch and laugh. But he was wrong, because he heard her scream and saw her trying to flee from them. He saw them surround her, weapons and spells drawn, and attack. She screamed in terror and pain again, but not for long, because before he could ask himself what he was doing, he'd drawn his sword and began cutting down the Thalmor hit squad mercilessly from upon his horse's back. And Brelas was fleeing across the bridge, safe, and he was leaping from his horse and cutting down the remainder while they fought back, spells meeting their mark upon him at almost every turn. But he hardly felt the injuries and blows, and in seconds the last of them was dead, and he was on the ground gasping and panting, trying to stay conscious and praying to the deities he'd never believed existed, and to the one he had forsaken, that some form of mercy would come to him when he died, even if it _was_ miniscule or temporary.

ES

She raced across the bridge, hardly able to believe what had just happened. And on the other side she turned to look back. He was downing the last of the Thalmor attackers. Then he had fallen to the ground on his knees, clutching his injuries painfully and gasping for breath. He didn't turn, he wouldn't bother, and she found herself wondering why. Why wasn't he fighting to rise? Why wasn't he calling for help and begging for mercy from her, or from the citizens of Dragonbridge?

Before she could think she was walking back across the bridge and he was looking her way. He could swear he was seeing a mirage, a hallucination. He had thought she was beautiful before, but to see her outlined against the two moons and the eerie bridge, water almost glowing behind her and wind blowing the trees… Beauty took on a whole new meaning. He scowled and turned quickly away from her. So be it. What better way to die than at her hands.

"Happy?" he spat as she reached him.

"I wish I were," she answered. "But how can anyone be happy when they are watching another living soul suffering and dying?"

"Easily. I've done it multiple times," he replied, scoffing. "People are _not_ as good and decent as you seem to believe. Even those who consider themselves heroes, who are considered by _others_ as heroes, are often the cruelest of them all. What are you waiting for? End it already."

She knelt down and asked, "What drove you to act?"

"How should _I_ bloody well know?!" he shot viciously. "Get out of my sight you slut. Leave me to die already, or finish me off." She turned her head ponderously, anger in her eyes, but then scoffed and lit her hands with a spell. He gasped as it contacted him. "What on Earth? A _healing_ spell?" he asked. "Who are you playing?"

"I never meant to hurt you, sir. I sense you've been hurt enough in your life as it is, without me making it worse," she replied. As soon as her magic ran out, for she wasn't a high elf, she wasn't a natural magic user, she stood and turned her back on him. "Go home and rest. Thank you." He looked after her in shock, staggering up. She disappeared and he looked down around him at the hit squad he'd downed. Humph, probably the most useful thing he'd done for years now. He hadn't known he even still _had_ such skill.

**(A/N: Quest References: Diplomatic Immunity. When you release her, considering she survives the escape because the troll can usually kill her if you don't kill it first, there is a chance she'll be attacked by Thalmor in Dragonbridge and killed. Of course this is what I've gotten from comments on YouTube, apparently you need to follow her all the way there, but again, I haven't done this quest yet.)**


	32. Wishes and Fantasy

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Fourth up today. The guardsmen are so overlooked, but you can do quite a lot with them.)

Wishes and Fantasy

He'd never thought much on her. She was just another palace servant, a maid. A maid who danced and hummed beautifully as she cleaned the palace and carried out all duties tasked to her. Even on hands and knees scrubbing the floors she hummed happily. He wondered very much the reason for it as he watched her.

He remembered when it started. That day she had been busily scrubbing the floor when a Thane approached and shot, "Wench, bring these dishes to the kitchen, and don't drop them!" Still smiling, she'd risen and swept gracefully up to the man, taking the platter that contained the dishes. He shook his head in amusement as he watched the Thane's shocked look before the noble left.

She'd strode towards the kitchen looking lost in her own world. All at once she'd tripped, losing her balance and gasping. Quickly he'd moved, steadying her and ensuring none of the dishes fell. "Watch your step, maidservant," he murmured to her.

"Oh, thank you," she replied, looking at him in surprise. Often she'd passed this guard. He always stood before the garden between the two staircases, hardly ever moving unless he was on duty in the streets.

"Tell me, Erdi, what preoccupies your mind?" he'd wondered.

"Many wonderful things," she'd answered, grinning at him and walking away with a skip in her step, singing.

ES

"I made a wish in the town well that a golden knight came to take me to his castle. Oh, does it spoil the wish if I tell?" she absently asked. He turned to her, wondering if she knew she was speaking to him. She was lost in her own little dream world as she stood next to him resting and combing her hair. She loved the garden so…

He was silent a long moment, and he knew that if he never spoke she wouldn't even mind. She was distracted in her own daydreams, and he pondered. What would it be like, to live in a dream world? After a moment, though, he replied, "If you wish with all your might, and all your heart, I see no reason why telling should spoil it all. Divines bless your heart's desire, milady."

She looked up at him, slightly startled. She blinked as if just realizing he was there then looked intrigued. "Yes. Maybe you're right," she replied, rising. Her expression filled with light and mirth, so much so that he swore the room brightened with her grin. Giggling she raced off to tend to her duties, and he couldn't take his eyes from off of her.

ES

"Are you my gallant hero? Have you come to whisk me away to a life of adventure and romance?" she questioned the newcomer, the Dragonborn, and he listened, curious as to what the man's reply would be. The Dragonborn looked intrigued and slightly predatory for a moment. The guard didn't approve.

"Perhaps we will see," this Dragonborn answered. She started then grinned widely and blushed, turning away. The guard watched coldly. The Dragonborn approached him and remarked, "A fine little thing. Maybe I will test her worth."

The guard looked icily at him, glad the helmet hid his expression. "You cause trouble in Solitude, you deal with _me_," he simply warned the man. The Dragonborn looked at him and for a moment he sensed distaste, but without a word more the man left.

Erdi approached him then, saying, "Can you imagine it? A handsome stranger rides into town and sweeps the maiden off her feet." She spun as she spoke, emphasizing it and falling backwards dramatically, trusting fully in him to catch her, and he did so, holding the innocent and delicate dove in his arms. He shivered subtly as she giggled and stood again. She faced him and took his arms, saying, "Perhaps my wish is coming true at _last_. His armor is golden and bright, his horse is white as snow, if the whispers are to be believed. At last my knight will take me from this place, this life, and I will be his queen, his muse, his goddess!"

"His plaything," the guard bitterly remarked.

She started, pretty and bright smile falling. "Hmm? His plaything?" she asked.

"Go nowhere with him alone," he warned her. She frowned, obviously unhappy with him for spoiling her little fantasy, then harrumphed and walked away, head held high. Oh naïve young girl, do not let your guard down for a fairy-tale. Do not despise me. My only goal now is to keep you safe, my every prayer is for you to be protected, my entire mind is consumed by _you_.

ES

She would never know what this Dragonborn had planned to do to her. He would be sure of that. He had seen the man slip into the room where the servants slept, where she now slept alone, and he had followed. He had seen the 'hero' lingering over her, looking consumed with lust. He saw the Dragonborn wake her and he saw the delight in her expression when she saw the hero. He was speaking to her, and she was unaware. She couldn't catch the innuendos in every word he spoke. She hadn't been aware when the Dragonborn climbed upon her bed, taking her arms tightly, and began to subtly push her back upon her bed, his every word honeyed and disguising his true meanings. She had, however, been aware when _he'd_ stepped in.

"Dragonborn! The Jarl has a task for you!" he'd sharply called, and the Dragonborn, almost on top of the star struck young girl, had looked up, perturbed, and quickly crawled off of the bed and left.

She looked dismayed, looked at him with a gaze that was so betrayed… Erdi, if only you could know what you have just narrowly escaped, but who am I to ruin your fantasy? She rose and went to him sadly, asking, "Why do you intervene?"

"That man is _not_ your golden knight," he simply answered. "That man is not the angelic hero you believe him to be." Before he could see her become angry, he'd turned and gone back to his post, leaving her to puzzle over the words. He never saw it, but her eyes brightened in realization, and then hurt and fear.

ES

"I made another wish, today. I wished that my golden knight would come to me soon, and that I would not be deceived by him," she remarked as she sat by the garden, stroking the petals of the flowers growing there.

He glanced at her, pausing in his watching protectively over the maiden. "Has it come true?" he questioned.

"That depends," she answered. After a moment she looked up at him and asked teasingly, "Are _you_ my gallant hero? Have you come to whisk me away to a life of adventure and romance?"

"Lady Erdi, I am no golden knight," he answered. "I cannot whisk you away to a castle, for I have none. I cannot vow to you that I will make you my queen. I cannot say that you will be waited and doted upon at every turn, or that your foot will never again touch the ground if you so wish it, or that it will be unspeakable that you ever have to bend upon hands and knees again.

She smiled sadly and looked back at the garden, sorrow upon her features. "I suppose not," she murmured.

He cringed at her sadness and watched her a long moment. Finally he said, "But if you will settle for a lowly guardsman, I will carry you away to my family's home, and though we be poor, you will be my goddess and my muse and my queen and my bride. I will protect you with everything I have and everything I am. All I own, all I love, will be yours, and nevermore will you be called wench and slave. Never more will you bend and scrub until you cannot move. I will not promise you strawberries and cream, nor will I promise you that you will never work again, but I will do everything I _can_ to give you some semblance of the life you have dreamt so long about."

She stopped, softly breathing in, whispering something under her breath. Swiftly she turned to look up at him, eyes wide. He glanced away, focusing once more on watching for any threat. She rose quite suddenly and breathed, "I will be more blessed with you than if the Emperor _himself_ desired me." He turned quickly to her, surprised. Then she was removing his helmet, then her lips were upon his, soft and gentle, then he was softly caressing her. Yes, he could make her wishes and dreams come true.


	33. The Black-Briar Meadery

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Sorry for the delay. Other stories on the go and such. Enjoy.)

The Black-Briar Meadery

The Dragonborn entered the meadery and looked around. "Welcome. Allow me to recommend the Black-Briar Mead. The purest brew in all of Skyrim," a young elf man behind the counter said, smiling brightly at her. Ungrien, she believed the name was.

"What makes Black-Briar Mead so special?" she wondered, curious. She rather liked the young elf's attitude. Her first hint something was wrong, though, was with his answer to that question.

He launched instantly into a spiel that was so obviously rehearsed it was slightly frightening. It sounded as if he'd gone over it a thousand times because his life was on the line. And with the answer to her next question, she had a sickening sense that it may very well _be_.

"That sounded rehearsed," she remarked suspiciously, and he almost panicked before calming down and masking his horror.

"Did it? Sorry, I'm just new at this. Don't tell Maven," he pled. He told her things, and she was increasingly tenser with his every word.

"Surely she's not that bad," the Dragonborn said.

"Not that _bad_? Sure, let's go with that," he replied, and she felt a little bad. He'd been opening up to her and she'd shot his concerns down.

"Tell me about Maven Black-Briar," she asked, now guarded and trying to get the young man to open up again.

"She's an absolute _pleasure_ to work for! In fact, _I_ almost feel guilty accepting _pay_ from her. Why just this last week I was commenting to my fellow meadery workers just how lucky we are to be working for such a charitable family," he answered almost instantly. She was actually taken aback by the response, and just then she noticed the very woman watching him closely from behind, an icy smirk of approval on her lips. The young woman shivered at the look in Maven's eyes. All at once Indaryn swept in and brought Maven away to speak about something or other.

Left alone with the elf once more, the young woman persuaded gently, "Come on, get the truth off your chest." This time, young man, I will listen and I will believe.

"Okay look," Ungrien quickly said, obviously desperate to drop the act. "If I'm caught saying _anything_ bad about the meadery or the family, I'm a dead man. I'm the fourth person to work the tasting counter in the last _year_. The last three are at the bottom of Lake Honrich. Just take my advice and just get out of Riften as soon as you can."

ES

She couldn't hide the horror and fear in her eyes. What sort of city had she _stumbled_ upon? "By the gods," she said in disbelief. The young man looked away from her, wiping the counter fervently. "Young man, why do you _stay_?" she demanded worriedly.

He paused and looked up at her. After a moment he answered, "Because there's nowhere I can _run_."

"Do you give up so easily?" she questioned.

"My lady, please… Just don't pursue this anymore," he begged.

"If you fear her so, why did you come here for work?" she asked in almost a whisper.

Ungrien summed the young woman up silently, wondering why after all these months he'd finally poured out his true thoughts to her. And why was she so intrigued with Maven Black-Briar? For a dreadful moment he feared she was a spy come to get his true feelings on the woman. "Please, don't tell her," he pled, eyes filling with fear and slight desperation. "I'll do anything you ask, _anything_. Just… just don't tell her."

"Tell her? Young man, I'll do no such _thing_," she answered, eyes softening in pity on seeing his desperation. "Why did you choose to work here?" she repeated.

"You think it was a _choice_? Sure. Let's go with that," he answered, looking away from her and towards the tables.

For a moment, as she watched his helpless and forlorn expression, she felt such a surge of protection shoot through her that it was almost painful. She knew then that she would do anything to free him from this life, and so the Dragonborn whispered, "Come away from here. She never has to know."

"She will know," he replied softly, looking once more back at her. "She _will_ know, and I'm trapped. I think you should leave." The Dragonborn felt a chill race up her spine. Nonetheless she obeyed. She didn't want to be in the same building as that… that _woman_.

ES

The Black-Briar Meadery was quick to become her haunt as feelings of protection unlike any she'd ever felt surged through her at the mere thought of the elven boy; and at first it had frightened Ungrien very much. Soon enough, however, he'd become accustomed to her presence and began to relax. Softly he would flash her gentle smile. When she came and Maven was speaking to him, those smiles became nervous and tight before he would quickly turn back to Maven, fear in his eyes.

She was angered at the way that woman treated the boy. He was hardly her _own_ age, the Dragonborn was willing to bet. His smiles became grateful grins when she came for the sole purpose of seeing him and speaking to him. For the purpose of ensuring he was still there… It terrified her more than anything ever had, the thought that one day she would arrive and another would be behind the counter.

Smiles became more forthcoming. His hand softly brushed her own hand, or her arm, or her shoulder. Brushes were furthered when he would come up behind her and whisper into her hair a recommendation that wasn't Black-Briar Mead, which she'd quickly found out he actually detested with a passion. They'd worked out communications between them, where she would order Black-Briar Mead but trail upon the back of his hand the number of what she really wanted.

When he got off of work she would meet him outside, if she was around, and they would walk together to her house or his. After some time, walking next to each other became holding hands. The simple goodbyes became soft kisses he dropped upon her forehead, or the corner of her mouth if he was feeling particularly brave.

ES

It frightened her when one day, as she entered, he didn't look up at her except to spare a tired glance. She went to approach him, but Indaryn blocked her way and took her arm, bringing her none too gently to a far table and pushing her into the chair. "For your own good, and his, stay away from the boy," the dark elf warned.

"What are you talking about?" she demanded, slightly put out.

"You _know_ what I'm talking about," Indaryn replied.

"You threaten me? Need I remind you of that Mark of Dibella?" she asked, bringing up the event from not long ago.

To her shock, he never reacted. "Share the news with all of Tamriel, for all I care!" he barked angrily, making everyone look up at him. Falling quieter he growled, "But stay away from that boy."

"Why?" she defiantly demanded.

"Because people are beginning to talk. News has reached Maven, and she is none too impressed. I have watched young man after young man tend that counter and suddenly disappear one day without a trace. I won't stand idly by and let _this_ one be taken as well. The boy… means much to me. More than anyone else ever _has_. And I would sooner die than lose him," Indaryn replied. "How can I protect him with _you_ standing in my way?"

Her eyes lit up in realization. Indaryn had come to see the boy as a son to him. "No harm will befall your child," she vowed softly, and Indaryn stared. He was silent a long moment but soon moved, leaving her alone. She left without a word to her lover, but she met him at his home, and before he could speak had embraced him tightly.

ES

She never thought there would be anything she couldn't conquer. But this terror, this fear, this panic, that she felt inside of her was surpassing everything else. Where was he? Why wasn't he here? Then she saw Indaryn in a corner, hardly visible, and… and weeping silently. What had happened? Where was Ungrien? Oh _gods_, if Maven had done something to him… She could defeat dragons, giants, falmer, but if he had died, she knew that her grief would be the one enemy she would never be able to overcome.

She hurried to Indaryn and demanded, "Where is he?"

Indaryn looked up at her solemnly and answered, "I don't know… I don't know…" She walked swiftly away, but as she did she heard him moan, "Oh gods, please, not again. Give the child back to me… Give him back…"

ES

She'd never seen Maven look so horrified before as the moment she had her bent backwards over the table in the inn, a dagger at her the Black-Briar woman's throat. "Where is he?" she demanded furiously.

"How dare you! I will set the Brotherhood on you! I will…" Maven began.

"You will do _nothing_ if you're dead!" she screamed in anger, cutting Maven off.

Maven gazed at her in disbelief. "I don't know who you're talking about," Maven finally stated.

"Ungrien! Where is Ungrien!" she yelled, and no one in the inn dared approach the two.

"I've never heard the name before," Maven answered.

"Liar!" she shrieked, tears in her eyes. And to make a point she drew blood, making Maven shiver in fear, for once in so long realizing her own mortality. "Do not make me kill you, Maven. Or perhaps it should be one of your children who dies?"

In that moment she saw terror. She saw fear. She saw weakness unlike any she had ever known the woman to possess. "You wouldn't," she breathed.

"If my dear one is dead, one of your children will join him at the bottom of that watery graveyard," she answered simply. "Give him back to me. Give-him-_back_."

ES

The cell door was opened and the shackled and weakened elf looked up fearfully. Was now his time to die? His heart leapt and his eyes widened, however, on seeing _her_. The next thing he knew she had sobbed and run to him, kissing his lips desperately and weeping. The moment he was unlocked, his arms were around her. "You found me," he breathed.

"You're safe, you're safe," she said, sobbing. Tightly he held her, rocking her. Worriedly he looked up at his employer, whose eyes were like ice.

"What have you done?" he asked the young woman in his arms, suddenly feeling a desperate protection. If she had made a deal with Maven…

"Never mind," his lover answered.

"Your little harlot _threatened_ me, _that's_ what," Maven growled. "Get out of here, the _both_ of you!" Before Ungrien could react to the news, the Dragonborn had pulled him out of the prison and all the way back to the meadery.


	34. Heroine

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today, a reader's request and a pairing I find I'm enjoying. I actually took part of this idea from my own experience. Hired Thugs tried to kill my character right inside Dragonsreach. I ran to the throne room and let's just say the battle didn't last long, and Balgruuf did the most damage too. I've done a few revisions, having found out Balgruuf had three children, not two.)

Heroine

He'd never wanted another after his first wife's death. His first thoughts were of his three children. She was gone, and she had been the one who spent every waking moment with them. He'd always been so busy with his duties as Jarl that the children born to him were practically strangers. There was an heir to the throne, and at the time of the births of his children, that had been all that mattered to him. He'd never learned what it was to be a father, or any kind of parent. That was what _she_ did. Now she was gone, and he found himself clueless.

His youngest son made it no secret he resented him. Every traveller that came through it was the same line. "Another wanderer, here to lick my father's boots. Good job." The boy never thought he'd heard, but he heard very well. The eldest boy seemed unaffected but had begun acting out, particularly when it came to fighting, and the child wasn't afraid to use his fists when knives were beyond his reach. He didn't trust it. His daughter was spoiled rotten after his wife's death, quickly becoming daddy's little girl, or rather trying to become that. He was hardly there for her. Her favorite line was something along the lines of, "Another servant? Please remember I like my milk warm when it is brought to me."

He tried, goodness knew he tried, but with the civil war and trying to hold a semi-neutral position… It was just too much. He couldn't keep up with everything, often leaving the three under the care of his servants, his Housecarl, his steward, the soldiers, and Farengar. All the while he saw his youngest son becoming darker and darker, his eldest son becoming more and more... he wasn't sure. And his daughter, she was becoming something else. He didn't know why. It hurt him more than anything else that his children felt as if they couldn't go to him. It hurt him that despite all his power, all his skill, he couldn't protect them. Then _she'd_ come, a harbinger of grave news. A dragon had attacked Helgan, and now Riverwood was calling for his aid. Now _dragons_? And he'd asked her how she'd come to be here and she'd told him about her near execution, and he had known in that instant that there was something different about this one.

ES

He didn't think much on it when she left on her quest for Farengar. Until three days had passed without her return, that is. He struggled to focus on his duties, but how _could_ he when his mind was occupied with his fear regarding the young woman, and the desperation he felt to protect his offspring whom he sensed in his bones, his spirit, his very being, that now more than ever needed a parent, not a king. And he was trying, but he didn't know how, and his mind was consumed by guilt for the strange young woman who still hadn't come back and whom he believed he may have sent to death, and his heart was torn between two sides of a civil war, and every waking moment he sensed a presence in his palace that terrified him, and every passing day he felt more and more certain that… that his own children plotted his death; because the way his youngest son looked at him, the way he fingered the dagger his mother had once given him… Honestly, part of him wished it were so. All of this suffering would end at death.

Then she returned, as he was lost in his thoughts, and he almost leapt from the throne, though outwardly he remained calm and collected. His children greeted her, cold as always, but she simply smiled at them and handed them all, _treats_? What on Earth… As he tried to puzzle it out, and as the woman spoke to Farengar, a soldier entered into his palace and told of a dragon attacking the Western Watchtower. Immediately he told Irileth to collect Farengar. To his surprise, Farengar wasn't the only one she brought. With her came the woman. So he allowed the defense of the watchtower, and again as he watched the stranger leave he felt a sense of dread, felt as though she might not return and this had been a death sentence. Again he was plagued by so many thoughts and responsibilities he wished to lie down and never awaken again.

Then he noticed his children watching him quietly, and for a moment he saw worry in their eyes, but worry turned to resentment and haughtily they all left, his eldest son shooting him an ugly scowl that sent shivers down his spine. There was something in his palace that shouldn't be there. There was some power here corrupting his little ones, his babies, and in that moment he swore to himself he would free them of that curse if he had to die doing it.

ES

He could only stare, lips parted, as the stranger entered, her hair windswept and a flush on her cheeks. She looked shaken, afraid, and he believed that was the first time he'd ever seen such emotions. She approached his throne and knelt before him submissively. "Rise, my lady," he said to her, a sense of calm covering him that gave him such relief from his torturous thoughts… Never had he thought he would feel such respite for as long as he lived, almost as if everything would be all right and all of this would end. "Tell me what happened," he commanded.

She rose and told him everything in detail, and he listened in awe to her declaration. Dragonborn. She was a Dragonborn, a hero of old, and suddenly the shout he had been discussing with his advisor and most trusted guard made so much more sense. His gratefulness to her was eternal for the service she had done for him, and so he named her a Thane of Whiterun, giving to her a home in his city. She graciously accepted and went to leave, pausing only long enough to give him her name and then to hear his children's snarky remarks. Gently she chastised them and left.

ES

She was a regular presence in his palace, back and forth from her adventures to the grandeur of his halls. She had no home, deciding against purchasing the one in Whiterun. After all, though this was the city she most frequented, she never stayed too long, otherwise out in Skyrim being the heroine she was meant to be. But always she returned to her Jarl. Yes, she dubbed him _her_ Jarl, for compared to all the others she'd met, he was the only one she truly respected, even despite his faults, and she knew there were many. She supposed that in a way Dragonsreach _was_ her home.

She often greeted his children affectionately, rewarding them with treats when they were polite and chastising them when they were disrespectful. Especially to him, who for some reason she felt a special protection towards. There was no hesitation on his part to help her, and this was proven beyond a doubt when one day hired thugs were waiting for her inside the city, in front of the cloud district. There were no guards around. Weak and injured already, she couldn't have _hoped_ to survive a battle with them, so she fled. She fled into the grand hall of her king and fell before him, clinging to his knees for protection, shivering; and shocking him beyond belief.

He looked quickly up and saw the hired thugs race towards her, towards his own throne. Fury darkened his eyes. How _dare_ they burst into his palace and attempt to slaughter his champion in front of his very _eyes_. His children screamed, fleeing from the throne room, and he rose, drawing his blade. The guards at his throne as well as Irileth, Farengar, and anyone else near to him converged on the group. The thugs, fools each one, tried to reach her, but her king stood blocking their way, and cut them each down one by one before they could so much as fire an arrow. Soon the excitement died and he turned quickly back to her.

He knelt next to her. She looked weakly up at him, eyes clouding over. She was going to faint. She must have lost a good bit of blood during her last battle, and he realized instantly that she had been coming to him for help. He picked her up and called out orders to his people. Swiftly he carried her into his room and laid her upon the bed. She'd never owed her life to anyone before. It was odd. It was frightening. But there was no other man she would rather have been indebted to. "Thank you," she breathed softly.

He hardly left her during her time infirmed, and nor did his children. It was the closest he'd ever felt to his little ones for a long time, but there was still the dark auras about them, his youngest especially. He tried to ignore, but what fool ignored what was so plainly in front of them, especially when it meant life and death. The next time he sent her on a mission was for just that reason.

ES

She came to him, asking about the rumors surrounding his little ones. She saw his eyes become filled with misery and pain. In that moment she saw such hurt in him, such fatigue and stress, that it almost frightened her. For a moment he looked so weak, so old, and oh, so depressed. He closed his eyes tightly and told her about his youngest's odd behavior. He begged her to speak to the little boy, and who was she to refuse?

She was horrified when the child told her about the whispering door, and when the boy hinted that… that if she killed Farengar for the key, no one would notice the young wizard's death. She saw it in him, a darkness that shouldn't have been there. A curse. And she wanted so badly to free the children. She knew, now, what Balgruuf had meant when trying to explain his feelings to her. She saw, now, why he was so afraid of patricide. He feared it because he was right.

When she learned whose influence the little ones were falling under, the children she had come to love, she knew it was exactly what would happen if Mephala wasn't stopped. And it frightened her more than anything that she couldn't _find_ a way to prevent the Daedric mistresses plot. Why did it hurt her so badly, to know that she could do nothing? To know her Jarl's fate could very well be sealed…?

ES

He had been asleep when she ran into his room. He started, looking up. Worry came to his eyes and he tried to rise, but all at once she was in his arms with silent tears streaming down her face. He was completely lost. What had happened, what was going on? "What happened? Are you all right? Where are my children?" he asked, increasingly more alarmed. And she told him everything. Oh how she told…

He held her tightly, hurt and sadness and fear and so many other emotions written in his face. He buried his head in her hair softly until she calmed down. After a long moment he breathed, "If… If death is to be my fate, then so be it. But Mephala will not possess my children."

"I don't want you to die," she whispered softly, clinging to him.

"Dragonborn, your courage and loyalty surpasses even my most trusted," he murmured to her, and he was getting lost in the feel of her hair and in the warmth of her body against his and the softness of her skin. "If I should be killed, promise me one last favor; that you will take my children into your protection, and raise them as if they were your own. Even if it should be… be them to end my life."

"I follow my King," she replied, nuzzling close to him.

"But how far?" he questioned.

"To death," she answered.

"No death, my lady, never death," he softly soothed. "I could not ask that of you."

"You won't have to," she declared. "I will raise your little ones as my own if…" She shivered and burrowed into his body, and gods, he hadn't felt anything akin to this since his late wife.

"If I am killed," he finished for her. She nodded miserably.

"Do you agree to be bound to me, now and forever," he murmured, and whether she understood his meaning or not, it wouldn't matter. But he couldn't have kept silent any longer.

"I will be your wife," she answered, laughing. His heart jumped. She'd understood.

"My Queen, my bride, my heroine," he said softly. Lovingly he kissed her head. "All I have is yours."


	35. Bandit King

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Sorry for the wait, but I've been focused on another series recently. Anyway, there will be a few up today. This one is actually pretty dark. At first I was going to pair this character with the Dragonborn, but then I thought of an even more interesting match that I could do a lot more with. You'll probably recognize the scene. I just swapped the Dragonborn for an NPC in the role of the victim.

This guy was one of the only three, or four, bandits who were actually named. And of them all he went about his plan in the cleverest way. Elaborating on his wiles and his ability with a bow, and the fact he's one of the only bandits I was impressed with in Skyrim, I gave him the title that's actually this oneshots name. Granted he wasn't the most powerful or dangerous opponent, but power wasn't what I was judging by.)

Bandit King

She was skilled in alchemy. She always _had_ been. And she was empathetic. Her nature was gentle yet dark, her skills centering on healing and potions. In light of this it was only natural that, when as she'd been collecting ingredients she'd stumbled across the man sitting in the road, she would stop to help. What _else_ was she supposed to do? Let him die? What if he was badly injured? Besides, maybe she could test a new healing potion on him. She approached and he asked, "Are they gone?"

"Are you ok?" she questioned.

"Bandits attacked and ransacked my cart. Can you help me?" he replied.

"What can I do?" she asked, worried about him as she knelt, scanning for injuries. In retrospect it should have been a hint. There wasn't even a scratch on him.

"My camp is nearby, in the ruins of Nilheim. Get me there safely and you'll be rewarded," he replied. She nodded and helped him rise. He led her onto the bridge, heading towards a ruined tower that must have been Nilheim. "It's just across the bridge and up that hill," he said, pointing out the ruin.

"It's beautiful here," she remarked, looking around. He said nothing in return. Again, it should have sent off warnings, but she was preoccupied with the variety of ingredients she was seeing all around them.

As they neared the ruin, he said, "We're close now, I can see the camp."

"Why in a ruin?" she wondered. After all, what had she to fear? She was the daughter of Maven Black-Briar, and only an idiot would dare cross her. Or one who didn't know who she was. He simply chuckled. She thought it was a slightly dark laugh, but foolishly she ignored the warning bells ringing in her mind.

"Wait here, I'll be right back with your reward," he said to her. He hurried off and she waited, looking guardedly around at the other people milling about. She couldn't ignore her senses anymore. About halfway up he turned around. Her hand went to a sword cautiously. An icy smirk was upon his face, and he declared to the others almost boastfully, "Looks like we've got ourselves another fool."

She paled on hearing these words, quickly catching on. Weapons were being drawn and she gasped, turning quickly. An ambush! They were bandits! But if _they_ were _bandits_, that meant… That meant this man she had just helped was their _leader_! She fought valiantly against them and watched their chief draw his bow, retreating to a better perch. She cried out in pain as a missile struck her. His arrows were swift and sure, his aim absolute. He must have been taught to shoot from the moment he could _hold_ a bow. She couldn't defeat them, not right now, but she would be back. This would not go unpunished. She scowled viciously, struck another bandit, and fled.

ES

"She gravely injured a fair number of us," one of his people declared.

Telrav listened icily, looking over his injured men. "She'll pay, mark my words," he answered.

"My Lord, that woman was Ingun Black-Briar! She will return with help," his man protested.

"Likely, but if we flee they're guaranteed to catch us. We hold our ground. It's the best chance we have," Telrav declared; and his followers knew how true those words were. "I won't say we'll survive this, but we have no choice now, _do_ we."

"You will survive, my king," the bandit men, and women, said together. He said nothing. He could only hope so, but something told him that this time… This time he wouldn't be so lucky.

ES

She was shocked to silence on hearing the Jarl's proclamation. The bandit leader she'd crossed was no normal bandit chief. The leader she'd crossed was more than that. Far, _far_ more. His name was Telrav, and he was the Bandit _King_! It wasn't a title to take lightly, for it was very serious. The bandits of Skyrim, of all of Tamriel, answered to _him_. It was he that they obeyed, his lead and his orders they followed, his commands and ideas they studied and incorporated. And she had crossed him.

Her mother was infuriated, the Jarl wanted him dead, and in seconds she was set up with ten hired thugs and told to lead them to Nilheim. She was ecstatic at first. Finally her mother was letting her do something of importance! She had had no plans to fail the woman. Dutifully she led the mercenaries towards Nilheim. She would bring the Bandit King's head back on a pike. She frowned at the mental image. Hmm, perhaps that was a bit much.

"They approach," one of the bandit women declared, and Telrav harrumphed as he observed the small force. Theoretically it would be no trouble for them. They'd taken on worse. Except… except part of him warned that their luck would change very quickly and very suddenly.

ES

Ingun led the thugs into the camp and halted them. There was silence, no sign of anyone. "Perhaps they fled," one suggested. Wrong. All at once he was pierced through with an arrow! He gave a strangled cry and fell dead. Immediately the other guards leapt into action as the bandits sprang from hiding with every intention of slaughtering them all.

She observed icily, her hair blowing in the wind. She could only watch so much, though, before she looked down at the ground. She heard the whooshing of an arrow, however, and barely managed to duck in time. She gasped, turning. Above her was the Bandit King, eyes cold and fixed on her. She scowled. He looked away from her, obviously judging her to be no threat, and began firing at the thugs. To her horror he was taking them down one by one!

She would have none of it. She wouldn't be brushed off so easily. She raced to the cliff and began climbing up. He wasn't aware until her dagger was at his throat that she had moved. Immediately he grabbed her wrist, forcing her hand away from him as he struggled against her. She held her own, though he was much stronger. She met his eyes and saw him continuously looking over at his bandits. The more of them that fell the more desperately he tried to wrestle her away from him, and the more concerned his eyes became. She was mildly surprised. He actually _cared_ about them. He cared…

He seized her wrist, squeezing violently. She dropped the knife in pain and he grabbed it up and stabbed at her, but his one-handed was nothing to his archery, and she easily moved her head out of the way of the blade. All at once she was pinned against the cliff, and _he_ was ready to _exterminate_. He would have done so too, except suddenly a thug called, "Don't move! You've lost, King of Bandits!"

Telrav paused, not turning away from gazing icily into her eyes. Finally he let the knife go. After all, killing her would do nothing now. Pain shot through his heart for a moment as he realized what it meant. His men had all been killed… He'd lost, and he was at their mercy. He pulled away from her and tucked his bow away, steely glaring at the shocked young woman until the thugs came up and brought him down to the ground.

ES

He struggled against the surviving five thugs as they struck him over and over with fists and the hilts of their swords, with shields and bows and axes, maces and hammers, until he lay crumpled on the ground gasping for breath, no doubt multiple bones broken. Ingun watched on doing nothing, but her eyes were frightened and hesitant. She wasn't sure _what_ to think of the treatment and pain they were inflicting upon the man.

Aggressively they dragged the Bandit King to his knees and pulled him roughly before her. "You are victorious, Ingun," one of the thugs declared. He pulled Telrav's head viciously back, forcing him to look up at the woman. "You have been defeated by one hardly beyond girlhood," he said to the captive.

Telrav scowled hatefully up at her, but she didn't smile cockily back, like her mother would have done. She could only look down at the badly beaten King of the Bandits, eyes uncertain. There was her empathy now, outdoing her pride. "You will pay for the crimes you have committed," she said, for what else _could_ she say? She wanted to apologize to him, but she had no reason to. Then again, she had also wanted to apologize to many of the young men who had found themselves at the bottom of Lake Honrich. It never did any good to apologize, so she chose a simple statement.

A thug then declared, "You have committed crimes against Skyrim and her people, against all of Tamriel and beyond. So you will be executed here upon the grounds of your own stronghold. On Maven Black-Briar's orders, your death will not be a painless one." Ingun worriedly looked up. Not painless? Then how painful would it _be_? What had her mother ordered? Her eyes widened in horror when a thug pulled out a pike and stationed it upon the ground, sticking up into the air. She gasped, covering her mouth. No… no, this couldn't be right. Surely they weren't _serious_? Impalement!

"I didn't expect it to be," Telrav replied to the hired thugs, but his eyes were murderously upon her. He glanced over at the pike and for a brief second, just a moment, she saw a shiver. She saw fear. As quick as it had come it was gone, and he was glaring defiantly at the object that would be the source of his gruesome and painful demise. He almost scoffed. "Bring it then," he challenged in a growl.

ES

Ingun watched in horror as they roughly pulled the Bandit King to his feet and forced him towards the stake. He began to struggle viciously, but there was no hope for him. "You will all suffer for this!" he stated. She and she alone knew how true his words were, for when the bandits of Skyrim heard of this slaughter, it would be war. There would be no one safe to wander Tamriel.

"Tell it to the creatures that will come and devour you as you die," a thug stated.

"If done in just the right way, impalement can take days," another hissed menacingly. The Bandit King shuddered again, and once more she saw the fear and despair in his eyes before they gave way to unbridled hatred and fury.

They stripped him down to his loincloth, humiliating him though he didn't give them the satisfaction of seeing a disgraced and shamed expression. Roughly they lifted him up and skewered him there upon the stake, his eyes towards the heavens. His scream of pain filled the land, and she felt terror and fear come to her, and pity and sadness. For a moment she almost raced to him, but she couldn't. Her mother was counting on her, her mother… Her mother. She swallowed and looked away quickly.

ES

They sat by the fire pit. Three days… oh gods, three days and still he lived and suffered. She knew what the hired thugs were waiting for. They were waiting for the moment the Bandit King would finally succumb. She didn't want to wait, though. She wanted to leave and never look back. He didn't deserve this, _did_ he? _No_ man deserved this. But she'd seen the bodies surrounding the tower and knew he was wicked; a dangerous murderer and traitor. This was _exactly_ what he deserved, wasn't it? _Wasn't_ it?

He never sobbed or cried out in pain. After the first few screams of agony and sobs, he'd forced himself to stop. He'd read the satisfaction it gave his captors. But she could hear pained groans once in a while still, and gasps. She could hear him coughing, likely blood coming from his mouth. They would give him no water to wet his lips, nor any form of relief at all, and he would suffer immeasurably until death finally took him. They taunted him with the life giving liquid, pouring it upon his face in a way that he couldn't reach the rivulets to even get a _drop_. They would spit at him and taunt him mercilessly, but he never graced them with a reply, the only sign of his fury the eyes that never seemed to stop blazing with fire. They wouldn't break him. They would never break him.

But she didn't want this. She _didn't_. Despite all he'd done, despite his crimes and his treachery, she couldn't wish any of this on him. Why not prison? Why not beheading? Why was torture chosen? It was so cruel, so inhumane. Not even the beasts of the land did such things to one another. She heard a soft moan from him and looked over. The soldiers were preoccupied and she moved. Silently she slipped away, taking a jug of water with her.

ES

He heard her coming and his eyes flickered weakly open. On seeing her, the blaze burning inside those eyes lit up all the more fiercely. "You are victorious, lady," he said in a choking whisper, tone almost taunting, almost reproachful.

She suddenly felt very small, and so in the wrong though she knew she wasn't. "Shh, shh, please. Don't… don't waste your strength," she begged. Holding the water out to him she said, "Drink."

"A pity ration? Unlikely," he responded.

"_Please_," she begged, tone frightened and apologetic, her voice cracking.

He looked at her curiously. She sounded near tears. "You are the reason I'm here," he hissed.

"I didn't mean… I never wanted this to happen," she answered. "Quickly, drink before the thugs notice." He harrumphed then obeyed, because he knew she wouldn't leave until he'd taken at least a sip, and he _was_ so very thirsty. So very, very thirsty… and tired, tired, tired… Oh gods, let his life end. He coughed and choked painfully, unable to swallow. "No, no, don't try so hard," she directed, tone soothing. Gently she raised his head and gave him more. This time he managed before moaning weakly and going limp again, hardly conscious.

ES

Insects had found the dying man, she now saw. They weren't even waiting for him to pass on, already trying to feed upon him. And there were birds waiting above, some daring to come down and perch upon his body, pecking at his flesh. Small creatures had been feeding upon him, she saw. A surge of anguish shot through her, making her want to burst into tears and fall to her knees, begging his forgiveness. What made it all the worse was that she knew, she _knew_, that she could have saved his life. She still might be able to. It would be difficult but doable.

Sniffing and willing back tears, she brushed the insects away from him and shooed the birds. He looked exhaustedly yet suspiciously up at her. "What reason do _you_ have to weep?" he sneered disdainfully. "It isn't my lady that they feed upon. Get away from me. Let me die alone."

"I never wanted you to die," she whispered, tears falling from her eyes. "Not like this."

"Too late for regrets now," he replied. How dare the wench pity him? The _last_ thing he wanted was her empathy. She sobbed and quickly left him, returning to the campfire.

ES

She didn't want to wake up. To wake up would mean to see his dead body. He'd probably passed on during the night. But she heard the thugs laughing and insulting him. Quickly she rose, looking surprised. Her eyes widened. He was still alive. Oh gods, did no immortal pity him anymore? She rose quickly and crossed over to the thugs. "Enough from you, _all_ of you! Back to the fire!" she ordered before she could think it through.

They looked startled, but they didn't dare defy the daughter of Maven Black-Briar. Not when icicles practically jumped from her eyes. Wordlessly they retreated from the Bandit King, and she looked down upon him in anguish. He was drenched in his own blood, wet and soaked by the crimson liquid; so much so that she marvelled he hadn't bled out. He was so pale, so weak. He was hardly breathing anymore. Oh pass on, young man. Pass on so your pain will end. No… no, she wouldn't let this happen. She couldn't watch, not anymore. With a sob and a furious shriek she suddenly turned to the thugs and ordered, "All of you, here, now!"

Quickly they obeyed, fearing Maven's daughter's wrath. "My lady?" they questioned.

"Take him down from off of the pike. Take him down!" she screamed.

"Ingun, the order was to…" one thug began.

"I don't care! Take him off of the stake!" she demanded, shocking not only the thugs but the Bandit King himself. Quickly they hastened to obey. In seconds he was laid upon the ground. The thugs stayed back, but Ingun knelt at the bandit's side, gazing down at him. His death would come all the swifter now. No more suffering, no more anguish.

His eyes lethargically opened, falling on her. He scowled, but the scowl turned to a painful cringe. "Thank you," he breathed, and she sobbed, nodding her head. But still part of her screamed to save him while another told her to leave well enough alone, and she was torn…so, so, torn. What choice would she make? Was there a correct one? Miserably she closed her eyes and willed these choices to leave her mind.


	36. Dangerous Affair

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today. Again, this is a fairly dark one. In fact, all the Black-Briar ones are pretty dark. But then, their family tree and history is more sinister than anything. My reasons for thinking that will be explained in the next oneshot.)

Dangerous Affair

She'd long believed that no one could care for an orphan like her. She was a bar wench, no more, no less. She was a thing for the men of Riften to leer and jeer at. She had been beaten for mistakes by her patrons until her aunt had needed to race in screaming for it to stop. She had been forced to strip naked and stand before their eyes as they ate and made lewd remarks. They would touch her, they would try to do worse, her often barely escaping them. She would pray for death or for her aunt to come to her rescue… But Haelga was always busy practicing her 'arts' on patrons, and there was no divine who cared for her. If there was, she wouldn't be here like this.

She never thought anyone would care… until _him_. He had come in one night, and he had seen what the men were doing to her, forcing her to stand before them unclothed as a sort of show. He had seen them grabbing at her and watched silently, eating. But he had never spoken, and he had never reached out for her. He came more often after that, and she knew he was just like the others. Except one day… One day it all changed.

ES

She was standing still, silently weeping and cursing her life as men approached her shamed body, kissing her and making more eager advances than ever before. They had dragged her into the center of the room and torn her clothes from her body when she protested desperately. For so long she had avoided this fate, but this time… This time her luck had run out. She had been at their mercy. They had had their fun with her and her screams had filled the bunkhouse… but no one had come. Her spirit broken she stood still as they continued to lewdly jeer at her. But then she heard the eerie sound of a sword being unsheathed.

The men had stopped and instantly turned at the sound, curious as to what it was. There he stood, the one she'd seen so often just watching her. The one she'd considered to be no different than any of them. He was there, his blade drawn and glimmering. "I'd advise you back off, boys. You've overstayed your welcome," he stated.

They'd laughed at him. For some of the men, that had been the last thing they'd _ever_ done. He was suddenly charging full into them, cutting them down like common animals. There was no mercy, no hesitation, and screams and blood filled the bunkhouse. She, terrified, had cowered against a wall, unsure whether to hope she was killed in her savior's fury or spared.

ES

The Bunkhouse was empty, many having fled and those who hadn't been able to lying dead… and the man approached her, tucking his sword away. He didn't bother to clean the blood from it. She stared at him in horror and awe. Would he hurt her too, now? No… He stopped above her and reached down, taking her wrist and pulling her roughly to her feet. She gasped, covering her immodesty as best she could. She looked down miserably, body still aching from the recent attacks. Just then something was draped around her. She opened her eyes, looking up at him in disbelief. A wrap. He'd covered her with a linin wrap.

"A few minutes too late, I see. Just in line with my track record," he muttered, and she wasn't sure what he meant. She wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know, but apparently he'd failed someone before like this, and often, seeing as he was hardly fazed, looking simply annoyed at the fact he couldn't seem to win this game.

"You, but why would you, I mean I-I…" she began stammering. Of all the men to finally step up in her defense, it was _him_? It didn't add up. It wasn't logical. This was Sibbi _Black-Briar_, of all the people. This was the cruellest and most power hungry of all of Maven's children, possibly rivalling even his mother. This was the psychopath with a narcissistic personality disorder, and he'd risked life and limb for a _bar_ wench?

"Surprised? I thought so," he said, smirking at her disbelief. "Not every girl is lucky enough to be rescued by a Black-Briar."

"What do you want from me?" she asked, because surely there was a selfish personal reason for him to have bothered with her.

"Svana, Svana, you don't trust me," he casually said, eyes dancing devilishly. Not a surprise. He was the devils spawn, after all. Of _course_ he would have her traits.

"Get out," she said, trying to get away from him. She almost expected him to hold her still, but he didn't. He let her pass, simply watching after her.

ES

She wasn't jealous when she found out he was engaged to Svidi. Not at all. She didn't care. She wasn't jealous every time he came in with her, the two laughing. She wasn't jealous when Svidi sang sweet songs to him. She wasn't jealous when she saw the love in his eyes for the woman. It didn't matter to her at all. Of course, the number of things she was breaking was higher than it should have been, and the thoughts of suicide and shame that had once dominated her mind were slipping away into disgust and anger, but still.

She suddenly spilled a drink on a man and snapped back to reality. The patron leapt up and grabbed her, shaking her violently and screaming curses at her. She was terrified. She refused to admit that her heart had skipped when suddenly Sibbi was there, driving the man viciously back into a wall and beating him down until the man was begging for mercy. Her heart pounding in her head didn't almost deafen her when he loudly declared that the next one who touched her or even raised a voice at her would die. She didn't go to bed that night and fall into a sleep filled with dreams about him. It was just infatuation, she knew… Just infatuation…

ES

He was aware when she began to make off handed passes at him. More amused than anything, he would just smirk back. But she wanted so much more. They both knew it. The joy that sprang into her heart when she noticed the love in Sibbi's eyes for Svidi fading away almost made working in this place bearable. She could hardly contain herself when she saw his gaze travelling over to her, despite Svidi's nightingale songs that could have lured any man into her arms.

Svana felt bad, very _much_ so. Svidi loved Sibbi with her whole being. It wasn't hard to see that. And Svidi was a good woman. Guilt taking over her, she'd tried to distance herself from the youngest Black-Briar child. It didn't work, only serving to drive him to pay more attention to her, and making her heart ache within her chest. She was the one who had propositioned the affair, waylaying him unexpectedly one night, when everyone else was gone, and kissing him passionately. Shocked at first, he'd returned before suddenly realizing what he was doing and pulling roughly away, gazing at her with eyes wide in disbelief.

"Svidi never has to know," Svana pled, knowing that this was wrong, just so, so wrong. But she couldn't do this anymore. She _couldn't_. He'd gaped at her in disbelief and for a moment there was hesitance. For a moment he almost left her behind. But all at once he fell, seizing her and kissing her desperately without a word. The two had quickly found their way to her room.

ES

It went on for months, and she saw guilt in his eyes. It always quickly left, though, until finally it just wasn't there anymore. It was Svana he loved now, and they both knew it. The love that had once been reflected in his eyes for Svidi was increased tenfold when he looked upon the bar maid. He didn't regret this, he never would, but at the same time he _so_ regretted it. This was wrong. In so many ways this was wrong. It wasn't right. A bar maid and a future heir to the Black-Briar _estate_? He'd thought of ending it many times, but every time he saw her or heard her voice or felt her breath against the back of his neck, all his will power fled.

He lay on her bed. She was next to him, holding his hand. "This is wrong," she murmured that night.

"I know," he answered. And oh how true that _was_.

"Svidi… she should know," Svana remarked.

"No," he'd sharply replied, because in all honesty he feared nothing more than Svidi's brother finding out. In a battle between them, he would be on the losing end of the sword. Wolfur was skilled and powerful. Yes, his fiance's brother was a peacemaker, but the man wasn't a force to be reckoned with. "All that matters is you and me," he whispered to his lover.

"But this is so, so risky. If Maven ever knew, or Svidi, or…" she protested.

"It'll be fine. Everything will be fine," Sibbi vowed, kissing her softly and silencing her fears. And for now it _was_. They could only hope and pray it _remained_ that way.


	37. You are a Good Man

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Third and last one up today. The author's note at the bottom will explain my reasons for why I portrayed this particular Black-Briar as I did. Probably the darkest family in the game, and one of the darkest and perverted hinted at back stories.)

You Are a Good Man

He wasn't sure what made him open up to her. He supposed it was because she was so forgetful that she wouldn't remember all he told her _anyway_. By the next day it would be gone, maybe even within a few minutes it would slip her mind. That didn't matter to him, though, because she listened. She listened without prejudice, and he saw empathy and sadness in her eyes. He saw tears and he saw anger and hatred towards those who had hurt him… and he saw such kindness and tenderness that he didn't know how to react, because for so long he'd forgotten that such a trait even _existed_ in humanity. It didn't matter if she forgot by the next day. At least he would have those moments of respite with her.

He didn't think she remembered, she knew. Why should he believe she _would_? She was chronically forgetful. She hardly remembered where her own _room_ was, sometimes… But she remembered his every word, and his every confession… She remembered the anguished things he spoke. She remembered him bursting into helpless sobs and her holding him tightly and weeping with him because his past was just so, so painful. His life now was no better. She wanted to kill Maven so badly for everything she had done to him, for everything she was still _doing_. And she was jealous, very, _very_ jealous; and possessive. Oh yes, there was possessiveness. She may have forgotten everything else, but his words and his laments would never leave her mind. They were etched into her thoughts and memories.

ES

He realized it soon enough, that she was remembering everything he spoke. It was a slip up on her part, and it had betrayed her guise. He was embarrassed, humiliated, and he hated himself for being so _blind_. He tried to rise and leave her behind. He didn't want to stay there with her. Not anymore. Not in all his shame and accursedness. She deserved better than that. He wasn't worthy of associating with such a woman. But she leapt forward and took his hand and pled on hands and knees for him to stay. She told him she didn't judge him, she told him she wasn't appalled. She told him he wasn't worthless, that he wasn't beyond redemption. She told him… she told him he was a good man… She _begged_ him until he finally relented and obeyed her wishes. From that moment on, things were never quite the same.

They'd known they'd been falling in love for some time now, honestly. In fact, they'd known since the day that he'd fallen into a fit of such misery and depression that he fell upon his knees and wept hopelessly upon hers as she sat. He'd begged for death that day, and begged for her to kill him. He threatened that if _she_ didn't, he _would_. Wylandriah had cried with him and done everything she could to try and calm and comfort him. He'd never been so grateful to _anyone_ before, and she'd never felt anything like she'd felt in that moment.

She'd thought it was just a type of protectiveness at first; like a sister and brother. Except the love she'd had for him in that moment was _not_ the love a sister should have towards her brother, and she'd seen Hemming with his own siblings. There was just something different about the whole thing that wasn't at all like that kind of relationship.

ES

Her life would be forfeit, she knew, if Maven ever found out. Based on what Hemming had told her about his mother, and what she'd done to him… well, that was best left unsaid. He would sooner die than let Maven find out what was happening between him and the court wizard. If his mother _did_ find out, he would die protecting his Bosmer lover.

He was afraid, she saw. Afraid to let anyone become close to him. _Especially_ when it was a woman. He thought he was unworthy. He thought he was doomed to walk aimlessly in the Void for eternity. There would be no Sovengarde for him, he alleged, and she knew he would consider even a plain of _Oblivion_ to be a blessing. He was cursed to a life that was not a life, to a fate that he did _not_ deserve. Hemming was a _good_ man. Yes he was a Black-Briar, yes he repeated his mother's mistakes, yes he made himself out to be narcissistic, spoiled, and his mother's pet, but he wasn't any of those things. He was his mother's slave… But all he did was for the good of his siblings and for their safety. All he did was for them, never himself. He was a good man who deserved _nothing_ of what Maven had done to him in his life, and Sovengarde should be _honored_ to accept him.

Except, from the stories he'd told, he wouldn't want to be separated from his siblings, neither of which had a chance at entering that place. Well, Ingun perhaps had a shot, but definitely not Sibbi. Not now. And unless the youngest Black-Briar did something drastic, he probably never _would_. So Hemming would he lost forever, trapped by his mother, his nightmare. Even in death he would not escape her, and he would roam the Void in captivity, sharing the domain with both his mother and the father he'd despised. Ingun would be in Sovengarde, more likely than not, and Sibbi in Oblivion. Hemming would be lost… Oh gods, please, don't leave him to be lost. Divines, show mercy to her lover. Show mercy to him.

ES

She wept silently, kneeling next to the bed he slept upon, her own bed. She gazed upon him miserably. He was trying to avoid returning home to Maven. She would gladly give up her sleep if it gave him such a respite. She kissed his hand softly and laid her head upon his chest, letting her tears fall and wet his clothing and skin. She felt his hand softly go behind her head, stroking her hair gently. She sniffed and looked into his eyes mournfully. "It's too late to save me," he whispered to her. "You know that. There's no use crying over what you cannot hope to prevent."

"Don't say that," she begged.

"Shh… Wylandriah, shh… It's all right. _I'm_ all right. I came to accept it long ago. My siblings are safe, that is all that matters. What happens to me from this point on is water under the bridge," he told her.

"You aren't worthless. You don't deserve this," she replied. He smirked softly at her, and oh gods she never though a Black-Briar could look, could _be_, so gentle.

"I love you," he whispered quietly. "Never did I think I could ever trust or love anyone _again_, or that anyone could ever love _me_. All the wrongs and all the sins I've committed… For everything I am still doing… For the suffering, the fate, that has befallen me; that I am still going through and bending to as though… as though I can't fight back, or won't, or don't want to."

She shook her head. "No… no… You aren't weak, you don't want that life. You're afraid. Afraid for yourself, just like any Black-Briar, but even more so you're afraid for your siblings. I love you, and I won't let the fate of the Void be yours to bear."

"You will have little choice," he stated.

"I will not let you go without a fight," she promised.

"I wouldn't expect you to. And before this is done I will prove to you that I _too_ can fight, that I can take charge of my own life, that I am a man. I am not helpless. For your sake, I won't _let_ myself be," he answered.

* * *

(A/N: In Skyrim, Hemming is referred to, along with Sibbi and Ingun, as Maven's child. He's also referred to as their sibling on multiple occasions, backing this statement. However, some of his dialogue suggests that Sibbi and Ingun are his children. He can even be seen sharing a bed with Maven, yet in the Skyrim creation kit he is listed as Maven's child and Ingun and Sibbi's father. Maven is listed as their grandmother, yet she refers to them as her children directly in a conversation with Ingun, and to Sibbi and Hemminig as Ingun's brothers too, I believe. This suggests that Hemming was originally written as Maven's husband but was later changed to her son.

On the wiki it made the observation that Hemming could very well be Ingun and Sibbi's father as well as their brother. When trying to puzzle out what that meant, I realized that it was actually a very plausible scenario. In fact, there was a _Law and Order CI_ episode that followed that same plot, when one character's brother was discovered to have also been his father. Maven, whom I hate and as far as I'm concerned is just twisted enough to do something like that, could very well have committed this unspeakable crime regarding her eldest son. Presuming her husband died early on leaving her with only one child, which would be a risky endeavor in the Skyrim world seeing as life is so short and Maven would want more than one heir just in case, she could have used her son to her advantage, making herself both Sibbi and Ingun's grandmother as well as their mother. It makes for a far deeper side to the Black-Briar family than is on the surface. Can't help but thing Bethesda realized it as well.)


	38. Forbidden

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Sorry for the wait. Been busy with other stories. There will be likely two up today.)

Forbidden

My dearest Olfina,

How long will this go on? The sneaking around, the missed opportunities? I feel like I can't take it anymore.

I love you, and you love me. That's all that matters. Anyone who has a problem with it doesn't really care for either of us.

Jon

ES

He watched her walk by, so closely that all he would have to do was reach out his hand and it would brush against her arm, close upon it and draw her close to him. He wanted to. So, so badly he wanted to. He longed to hold her near him, there before the town, and kiss her so lovingly that all would know how desperately he treasured her. His heart and body ached for her, so close to him yet so far. She would never be his, he knew. Not while this war raged on. If the Stormcloaks won, he would very likely be killed in the battle over Whiterun. If it was the Imperials, she would be imprisoned with all her family and taken from him forever. His eyes followed her as she went about her duties. She looked often towards him, giving him subtle warnings not to be so obvious. He didn't care. Let them all know. He didn't want to hide this anymore.

ES

Jon,

I know it is hard, but please. Try and be patient. We must keep to ourselves for now. You know that both of our families would react so very badly if they knew… if they even suspected.

There will be a time when we don't need to hide. I promise you that. Someday they will understand.

-O

ES

She was angry with him. Angry he wouldn't take his eyes from off of her. She was angry he wouldn't listen to her warnings and turn from her. Didn't he see what would happen if ever her family found out? Oh gods, didn't he see that his death warrant would be signed? And when Anoriath confronted her, when she knew that someone had caught on, she was infuriated all the more. Jon would die if anyone ever found out. He would be killed in front of her very eyes. Or she would be killed in front of his. She wanted to be his wife. She wanted to belong to him so, so badly, even though it was against all her feminist ideologies. The thought that he would be taken from her… Oh divines, she wouldn't be able to live on. She would die.

ES

She approached him late that night, when the streets were clear, and struck him as hard as she could, tears in her eyes. "You'll leave me a widow before we're even _wed_!" she said to him angrily, wiping the tears furiously away. Oh how she hated displaying weaknesses to any man. Why was it that of all the males in Skyrim, this was the one who most often laid bare her vulnerability before her own eyes?

He was startled and slightly confused. "What do you mean?" he questioned.

"He knows. Anoriath knows," she replied.

"As does the Dragonborn," Jon boldly declared, eyes flashing with slight anger at her reaction to the news.

"What?" she demanded in a hiss. "Oh _gods_, you will ruin us both," she added, turning her back on him and trying to walk away before he could see her weep. He reached out, though, and took her arm. Before she could protest he'd drawn her close, holding her tightly. She burst into tears and moaned, "You'll be the death of me."

"I will not be pushed from you because of this senseless feud between our families," he declared vehemently, holding her tightly.

"I will not be forced from you by death, especially not by _your_ death!" she argued. He kissed her suddenly, taking her lips desperately, firmly. She pushed away and shot, "Stop it! If someone sees…" He silenced her with another kiss and she slapped him again. His eyes danced for a moment, that accursed spark shining in them. He took her lips again and this time she helplessly gave in, returning just as, if not more, desperately than _him_.

ES

They pulled apart for breath and she leaned into him, letting her tears fall upon his garments until they finally dried. "Even in death I will love you," he stated.

"No… no, no, no… no death. No death," she pled. She kissed his neck lovingly then gazed up at him, saying, "I'm sick of death; so, so sick of death."

"There is much more to come," he solemnly said. "Do not obsess over such grim prospects. I want every moment of time I can muster to be spent at your side. Why do you torment me so, Olfina. Why? Why must we wait to be married? Why can't we go tonight, tomorrow? The priest will breathe no word, and we will have each other, no matter how short a time it is."

"We can't, we won't," she replied, but her resolve was crumbling like sand in the waves. No, no, she was stronger than that. She wouldn't give in.

"If the Imperials are victorious, you will be arrested, tortured, and executed along with the rest of your family. If the Stormcloaks win, I will be killed," he said quite simply, and she sobbed again, falling into his arms. "We can flee this place," he said. "We can flee as man and wife and never return until all is said and done. Olfina, please…"

"No!" she shot. "No… it's… it's so dangerous, so risky. If we're caught, if…" she began.

"There is death either way! Why must obsession over the word be our end?" he sharply said, agitated and frustrated. She was silent, gazing up at him in tears with lips parted.

"I want to be your bride," she finally declared, bowing her head. "I _will_ be your bride. But now isn't the time. Not now. Wait a little longer, Jon, just a little longer. If this does not resolve itself soon, I will go with you and marry you, and we'll run from this place as far as possible, I promise. Just a little longer."

"By then it may be too late, but if you so wish it, my lady, it will be," he answered. It was the best he would get. "Divines, how I love you," he murmured into her hair, kissing it softly.

"I love you," she answered, kissing his neck. They heard footsteps coming towards them and gasped. Quickly she pulled from him and hurried away before they could be caught.


	39. Beneath the Chitin Helmet

**Fate's Games**

(A/N: Second up today. Dialogue isn't exact, but I can't find this guy's quotes.)

Beneath the Chitin Helmet

She despised Dark Elves with a passion, she wasn't ashamed to admit. After all, it had been Dark Elves who had taken everything from her; parents, home, freedom… Arriving in Morrowind she'd been appalled, hardly able to stand even _looking_ at them, let alone being surrounded on all _sides_ by them. But the enemies in this land were difficult and incredibly powerful. She blamed the Dark Elves for that. She knew there was no reason to, but she had to blame _someone_.

It was when she was nearly slaughtered by a lurker that she determined she might need help here. She had rarely been bothered with followers before. The rare ones she took usually ended up dead. She really couldn't care less, simply looting them and walking away. It was often said she was as cold as ice, and truer words had never been spoken. After a while she'd just stopped _bothering_ with companions. Here, though, it seemed she would have no choice. She entered the Retching Netch thinking that perhaps there was at least one mercenary on this blasted island who wasn't a Dark Elf.

She would have walked right by him, except as she was strolling by he said, "Teldryn Sero, the best swordsman in all of Morrowind, at your service." She paused, looking back at the man she'd almost overlooked. He hadn't even glanced up at her. He looked up on feeling her eyes on him and added, "For a price."

She folded her arms coldly. "Really? And how much would that price _be_?"

He chuckled and she just _sensed_ his impersonal and cold smirk, hidden by his Chitin helmet. "500 should cover my fees. For a time," he answered.

She scoffed, laughing coldly. "For that price you had _better_ be the best," she said. "Surely you won't disappoint?"

"I'm sorry, was I unclear in saying I was the best in Morrowind? Funny, I thought I'd made that perfectly obvious," he replied.

She scowled warningly at him. "To claim to be the best sellsword in Morrowind isn't saying much. The Dark Elves are weak and pathetic, hardly worth the ground they walk upon. Are you _one_ of them?"

"If you want to live, hire me. If you want to die, well, see if _I_ care," he replied, dodging the question.

"I asked you a question," she menacingly warned. He just chuckled darkly and went back to drinking whatever it was he was drinking.

She summed him up wordlessly. He was cold, his voice held a witty, arrogant quality. Yet his tone was level and completely calm. In a way he reminded her of the serpents of the valleys; wily, silver tongued… deadly… Perhaps it would be worth the cost of hiring him? She would soon see. "Tell me more," she purred. He wasn't the only one with a silver tongue.

ES

He smirked coldly to himself. She thought she could charm him. How precious, but unlikely. Of course, pride aside he would give her what she wanted. He _did_ love gold. Enough so that he would have even crawled on his stomach like a reptile if it meant getting a fair price. "I was hired by a legendary warrior. A true Nord. Had tattoos on his face, wore animal skins, a real 'traditional' type. Had an insatiable bloodlust, extremely stubborn; one of the toughest employers I've ever _had_," he answered. Apparently this stranger disdained _Nords_ as much as _she_ did _Dunmer_, she realized. She wondered… what race was _he_ beneath that helmet?

"Why did you keep working for him?" she asked.

"

Simple… He paid well. _Very_ well," he replied.

"How did you come to be on Solstheim?" she questioned.

"One day we cleared out a ruined fort near Whiterun. When we got outside we saw a bandit galloping away on horseback. We tracked and chased him for three days, eventually arriving at the largest bandit encampment I'd ever _seen_. Well, the Nord took one look at me and gave the most menacing grin… At that moment I knew I'd never see him _again_. No amount of money would be worth that kind of death," he answered. He'd left the Nord to die, and hoped and prayed not one bandit had fallen before they'd finished him off. He'd never liked that one.

"So you have a limit as to how far you'll go," she said, becoming disinterested.

"My lady, we all have a limit," he answered. "And we all have a price. Am I hired or not?" he asked. She pursed her lips. If he was a Dark Elf, she wanted nothing to do with him. But she wasn't getting the feeling she usually got around Dunmer, so she was willing to bet he was something else.

"Very well. You're hired," she said, dropping the sack of coins into his hand.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he declared as he examined the gold then rose, tucking it away. "I'm right behind you."

ES

For days they tracked through Solstheim, and she was now intimately acquainted with his thoughts on every single little thing they came across. To an annoying degree, in fact. But he was powerful unlike anyone she'd ever worked alongside, so she put up with it. During their first battle she'd tried to deduce what he was by the way he fought. Immediately he'd conjured a Flame Atronach followed by flame spells, and she'd thought instantly he was an elf of some kind. She'd almost turned him away, except when he ran out of magicka he drew his sword and fought with it better than anyone she'd ever seen _yet_. She couldn't deduce who or what he was from his actions and talents, and it bothered her very much.

His every phrase was incredibly cynical, and equally as negative. In Raven Rock: "I've called Raven Rock my home for years… Azura knows _why_." In the Skaal Village: "How can these Nords _stand_ it up here?" He was the first follower she'd had whose company she actually relatively _tolerated_, albeit also one of the most outspoken. His negativity matched, if not exceeded, her own.

"Can you say nothing positive?" she wondered one day as they walked together, after he'd taken a crack at a herd of Netches.

"What is there positive to _say_ about this retched island?" he questioned. "Skyrim isn't much _better_."

"So cynical, Sero," she said to him, but honestly she wasn't bothered. She'd thought _she_ was cynical and cold. Hah! Apparently she'd met her match. "Hush, Teldryn, we're at a Reever encampment."

"You don't need to tell _me_ that," he replied, rolling his eyes. In an instant they had descended upon the hideaway.

ES

They made camp there, that night, after clearing the bodies. They gazed at the fire in comfortable silence. They didn't look at each other. Why bother? They'd seen enough of each other as it _was_. She remembered, a moment, that she still didn't know what race he was. Strange… She'd forgotten all _about_ that. But when, she wondered, _had_ she forgotten? She had to remind herself a moment that he could very likely be an Elf, and worse yet, a Dunmer. For some reason, though, in this situation, in this state of mind… She hardly thought she would care if he revealed himself right then.

"I grow tired of this island," she murmured. "I've been here far too long, surrounded by those, ugh, _Dunmer_."

"I didn't think you _cared_ anymore, you've become so accustomed to being around them," he remarked, muscles tensing slightly. He sincerely hoped she wasn't going to start babbling on about her hatred of the Dark Elves, as she had the first week or two of their 'partnership.'

"What gave you _that_ impression?" she questioned.

"Because now you can look them in the eyes," he answered.

"My stomach still becomes nauseous at their sight," she stated.

"How can you despise what you don't even know?" he hissed. She was silent, trying to think of an answer. She couldn't. At least, not one that was any good.

She looked down into the fire again, absently braiding her hair and watching the flames crackle. Her skin was still tingling at the sensation of his tone changing to one so serpentine. "I can't answer that," she finally said.

He was silent, summing her up. Soon he rose and went behind her and to the satchel they carried supplies in. She didn't turn. He looked up at _her_, though, watching. After a moment he moved behind her, placed his hands on her shoulders gently, and said in a whisper, "Because you don't have one…" Again she felt her body shiver as she slowly looked up. Unsure whether to be alarmed, infuriated, or flustered at his nearness. He pulled away and she almost regretted that there was no longer contact. "Anytime you want to head to Skyrim I'm right _with_ you. I've spent enough time on Solstheim to last a _lifetime_," he remarked, moving to his spot once more. She looked up at him. He met her eyes steadily. Lady, why must you hate my people so? By hating _them_, you have hated _me_. But hatred is no longer what I feel towards you.

ES

She opened her eyes, feeling the presence of his body next to hers. It was nothing unusual. They'd slept near to each other for the sake of warmth _before_. This time, though, she couldn't help but tense her muscles nervously. His arm was wrapped around her. His breathing was steady and even. She bit her lower lip and carefully rolled around to face him. She tried to peer beyond the helmet to see what lay beneath, but she couldn't. She wanted to know, though. She wondered… Would he notice if she took his helmet from him?

Her fingers went to it. She grasped the rim, ready to remove it, but suddenly his hand was clasped upon her wrist. Not painfully, mind you, but gently. It didn't stop her from blanching, or fear from coming to her eyes. "Do you _really_ want to know?" he evenly asked.

She gazed at him, heart dropping. Do you really want to know…? "Part of me already knows," she whispered.

He turned his head curiously. "And will you send me away?" he asked. She said nothing. Soon she drew away her hand from his helmet. Tears in her eyes she rolled over and tried to sleep once more. After all, if she didn't know, it didn't make it real. Oh if only that were so.

ES

She hadn't sent him away. That was the first thing he noticed. He also knew, though, that part of her still said he wasn't what she so despised. He watched her collect her things. Soon she rose and went up to him. "Are you ready?" she questioned.

"As I'll ever be," he dryly replied in his arrogant and disdainful tone.

"Good. Because you'll need to be at your best," she said.

He had wondered what she meant, until he noticed her heading towards a peculiar stone. He stiffened. She'd told him what lurked inside of them. She shouted at it and almost immediately two creatures began to materialize, huge and hideous! "That just isn't natural," he remarked, mouth agape.

"Welcome to Oblivion," she replied. Teldryn dropped into a fighting pose with her, and instantly they pounced at the things, ripping into them viciously.

ES

She was down, he saw, and struggling to recover. She cried out in pain as one of the two Lurkers whipped her with a tentacle and tried to pull her to it. Teldryn cut the tentacle off with one swing. He was fighting with all he had in order to protect her as she tried to crawl away from the two enemies in order to recover. His sword arm was tired, so he conjured another Flame Atronach and let loose with fire spells and a flame cloak. "Teldryn!" she heard her scream

Quickly he turned. He hardly had time to gasp before the second Lurker had spat whatever it was they spat at him. He cried out in pain, trying to pry off the substance that was draining his life force. He managed to throw it. She was staggering up. He charged right up to the duo of Lurker's, murder in his eyes. Viciously he attacked them with all he had, but they had him at their mercy.

In all honesty he'd known it would be a suicide. He knew his limits, and this was far beyond what he was capable of handling alone. She was screaming his name, racing towards him with weapon drawn as a lurker struck him to the ground. He looked up at her, gentleness in his eyes… and love… A pity she would never see it burning in them. One of the Lurkers wrapped a tentacle tightly around his neck and began to strangle him. The other spewed at him and he screamed in pain at the burning sensation.

"No!" he heard her shriek. Lady, this time you're too late. He felt himself collapsing, begging silently to be able to hear and see her one last time. How, he wondered, had he come to fall in love with she who persecuted his kind so; she whose hatred would finish him sooner than any weapon could hope to?

ES

The Lurker's were dead, and she was scrambling towards the still body of the mercenary. She reached it and immediately took his hands, screaming, "Teldryn! _Teldryn_!"

He heard her voice echoing in his mind. Desperately he fought to reach it, though just ahead lay an Oblivion gate, and Azura beckoning for him to come to her realm. He _certainly_ wouldn't die without seeing _her_ though… just one last time. She felt him move, and though she couldn't see them she knew his eyes were flickering open. He was silent, breathing shallow, and he just looked at her… just looked. After a time he murmured, "Azura calls to me…"

She shook her head in denial. "You aren't to go to her. You will stay here with _me_. You will fight again at my side. With gold I bought you. You _belong_ to me, _not_ to her."

"Dragonborn, I would fight with all my _soul_ to return to you, but this is only a mercy. I'm already dead," he answered.

"No!" she screamed sharply. She wouldn't accept that. Her hand gently went to his helmet.

"Leave it," he ordered.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because the last image I want of you is the one I see now, eyes so filled with love and longing and care… Not one of disgust and hatred. Your misery and your tears are more kind to me than your hate," he answered.

"You will see only love in my eyes. No matter what you are, you will see love," she replied.

"So sure of that, are you?" he answered. "Please, don't test it now."

"You will see love, no matter what you are," she repeated. She slowly began to remove the helmet. Be he Argonian, Khaajit… or Elf… it didn't even matter to her anymore what race he was, how he looked. She loved him. She _loved_ him…

ES

She removed the helmet, letting it rest upon the ground. Slowly she opened her eyes, and for the first time she gazed upon his face, and into his own. His irises were as red as blood, flaming like a thousand stars; and his appearance… she had rarely seen anything more beautiful than him… and he was a Dark Elf. He was a Dunmer, skin gray and hair black. The war paint he wore looked as if Dibella herself had dyed it there. The battle scars did nothing to mask his beauty. She sobbed and cupped his cheek gently.

"See… There is only love," she whispered to him, eyes filled with pain and misery. "I beg you, Dunmer, don't leave me."

He turned his head softly. Weakly he reached up, caressing her cheek. She covered his hand with hers. "You have loved that which you despise, as he has loved _you_," he said, feeling Azura drawing him back towards her realm.

The Dragonborn suddenly bent and took his lips softly. Oh immortals, she hadn't begun to even _imagine_ a Dark Elf could taste as sweet as he did, his lips like honey. "Don't leave me," she pled yet again, pulling away. But he was still, eyes closed eternally, and never before had such pain ripped through her heart as in that moment. Her scream of misery echoed through the night.


End file.
